


Childhood

by monozero



Series: Kids of the Lost Light [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, but it's in the past and in the context of a supportive environment helping them, but nothing graphic, canon divergence: drift doesn't leave, everyone's gonna do their best, kids of the lost light, liaison reader, lost light family, mentions of eye surgery, more character tags to be added as they appear, referenced eye injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-26 20:27:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monozero/pseuds/monozero
Summary: When the Lost Light stumbles across a run-down ship the last thing they expect is to be taking in a group of human children.





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by artoutforblood's (https://artoutforblood.tumblr.com/) kids of the Lost Light AU. I fell in love with the idea of the crew trying to help the liaison with a bunch of kids, plus I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort.
> 
> Also, I chose to go with MTMTE's style of using human terms for the Cybertronian anatomy because I just find it smoother to read.

“Do we know who’s that is?” You walk to the other side of the monitor, eyeing the decrepit vessel carefully. It likely would’ve gone ignored, had it not been for the life signs picked up. 

“No.” Rodimus rests a hand on his chin. “But we can’t just leave it. The state it’s in, any survivors are probably running out of time.” Ultra Magnus considers the captain’s words- for once, they aren’t actually too unreasonable.

“We should send a small team to investigate. There appear to be… eleven survivors. However, given its current condition, it should be sufficient to send four of our own.” Rodimus nods along.

“Alright then, let’s see… I’ll go down their with Percy, Ratchet, and Drift. That pretty much covers all the bases, right?”

“I see no problems with that.” While the others continue to discuss what they’ll need you step to the side and pull out your comm.

“I’ll get in touch with the others, then?” Rodimus flashes a thumbs up as you scroll for Perceptor’s frequency.

 

They gather with little fanfare, unless Ratchet’s mild grump counts. Which it doesn’t, because mild grump is his default state. Rodimus spins in his captain’s chair with a bit too much oomph, ending up facing awkwardly away from them. 

“Alright, so we picked up-”

“Rodimus,” Perceptor sighs, “You can’t honestly expect us to take you seriously like that.”

“What? This is exactly how I intended to end up.” Drift places his face in his hands as Ratchet turns the miffed mech to face the group.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“Alright then, now that we have Percy’s approval, I’ll continue.” He coughs as if to clear his throat, which is dumb. Sure, humans do it all the time as an attention-grabber, but that’s because there’s a feigned subtlety. Rodimus, meanwhile, has absolutely no reason to cough. “We’ve come across an unidentified ship in bad shape. Like, barely flying shape. The only life signals we picked up was for a cluster of about eleven individuals. The four of us are going down their to check it out. Any questions?”

“Is this a rescue mission?” Ratchet eyes him carefully, prompting him to shrug.

“Probably? With no real way to ID it- they haven’t returned our attempts at contact- we can only really guess.” Ultra Magnus steps forward.

“There has been virtually no movement, so it is safe to assume they are incapacitated or in some similar form of distress.” 

“Anything else? No? Good. Let’s move out, team!” With a clap Rodimus swings from his seat, Drift flashing Ratchet a sympathetic smile as the group follows.

“I wonder what’s over there,” you muse.

“Given its size, it’s likely built for expeditions. Maybe cargo shipments as well.”

“That probably would explain it being a target, if it was an attack.” Magnus is about to respond when the terminal chimes, indicating an incoming transmission from Rodimus.

***

The four bots step onto the dark ship, Perceptor taking note of the still-functioning airlock. They move through the halls in silence. No one comments outright, but it’s impossible not to notice just how many different species lay dead on the floor. Right now, it’s not what’s most important.

“Rodimus here. How close are we?” Drift stops at a corner, hand on his sword’s hilt, while they await Magnus’s response.

::They should be right down the hall.:: 

“Perceptor, Ratchet, hang back. Drift, with me.” He does as instructed, waiting for Rodimus’s cue to burst forward. 

They screech to a halt, stumbling over each other at the sight of the survivors.

They’re small. So small. And, as far as anyone can tell, human. What matters most, though, is that they’re scared. Terrified. One look at the mechs is all it takes to have the older humans pushing the younger ones behind them in an effort to both protect them and mask their tears. At the sound of crying Ratchet and Perceptor walk forward, only to be shocked into a similar silence. Drift immediately removes his hand from the hilt, but the motion draws attention to the weapon, causing the group to shuffle back even further. While the others are distracted by the sheer unexpectedness of this Ratchet kneels as low as he can and shows them his empty hands.

“We’re here to help you.” His words come as a surprise to everyone- the Autobots for how quickly he adapted, and the children for hearing a familiar language from an alien. If anything, though, this seems to make them even more apprehensive. Having set the lead the other bots manage to lower themselves, too, hoping to at least see their shoulders relax.

They spend a few minutes explaining in soft voices who they are, why they’re there. Ratchet tells them that he’s a doctor, and that doctors never hurt people. Nothing works, and their mounting frustration and desperation leaves them grasping at straws.

::Wait,” Rodimus remains still, communicating through the inter-Autobot frequency. ::We’re stupid. The liaison. Y/N.:: The corner of Ratchet’s mouth twitches, one of the older children eyeing him suspiciously. 

::That’s well and good, but we’ll need to actually comm the ship. They may not take well to another stranger coming.:: Perceptor’s gaze flicks to Rodimus for a moment.

::Well, it’s that or what- drag them back to the ship? Personally I’d prefer the former.:: Ratchet gets down even lower, despite his protesting joints.

::Alright, I’m doing it.:: Before Rodimus moves he scans the group, settling on the child standing farthest forward.

“I’m going to call my friend, okay? They’re really nice. You’ll like them.” Their stare intensifies, tracking Rodimus’s hand as he slowly brings it to the side of his head. 

***

::Rodimus here- is Y/N still around? We could really use some Earth liaising right about now.::

You look to Magnus, who seems to be just as confused as you are.

“I’m here, but not quite sure why you need me?”

::You’ll understand when you get down here. Just be quick, okay?:: Magnus looks at you curiously before helping you across the bridge to your armor. With the motions down to a science you’re ready to go in minutes, out the airlock and flying toward the ship. No one inside returns your attempts at contact, which is a bit concerning. There probably isn’t jamming, given you had been able to communicate before, but there is a slight chance that it’s some form of trap, and that Rodimus’s call was bait. Even if it was, you trust them. It’s not something you expected when you first boarded the Lost Light, this unwavering belief in the crew, yet here you are.

Once through the ship’s airlock your helmet’s HUD pings after a brief analysis, alerting you of sufficient oxygen levels. Unsure of the nature of what you’re walking into you opt to leave it on.

Magnus guides you through the halls to the group, and at first all you can see are the mechs kneeling on the ground.

“What are you guys-“ 

“Y/N!” Rodimus whips around and gestures for you to come forward. “You’ll probably have a better chance convincing them than us.”

“Them? Who is ‘t-‘“ As soon as you pass by Rodimus’s sides you see the small group pressed to the wall. You can’t get your helmet off fast enough- humans have only gotten into real space travel thanks to the Cybertronians and even then, it’s been limited to yourself and anyone helping on Cybertron. There’s no way they’re here for good reasons, whether it be Decepticons or any other organization. The way they look at you when they see your human face, one that tells them they aren’t alone, is absolutely heartbreaking. Without a second thought you drop the helmet to your side and rush over, a few of the younger children meeting your open arms. You drop to your knees and pull them in close, and a few others stagger forward too.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, “It’s okay now.” If the older ones don’t want to approach, that’s fine. They could very well need space- even those who ran to you may retreat into themselves once the initial shock of another human wears off. That’s fine, as long as you can get them back to the Lost Light. When you look up you catch one of them staring at the bots, then you, then the bots again.

“Those are my friends.” Their eyes dart to you.

“Friends…?” Their voice is hoarse, tired.

“Yeah, my friends.” You turn to them, beckoning them over with a nod. Rodimus scoots over in tiny hops, still kneeling. Ratchet, Drift, and Perceptor hang back, likely afraid of overwhelming them further.

“Y/N here is traveling with us while we look for some really important people.” You nod along, looking back to the child.

“I tell people on Earth about what we do here. Well, I’m supposed to. Our phones are broken right now, but we have someone really smart fixing them.” They still don’t seem convinced. “In fact, I’m kinda like their boss.” Rodimus jumps at that, but manages to keep quiet.

“You’re… their boss?”

“Mhm. So even if you don’t want to be their friends, you’ll still be safe with us. Because they won’t go against their boss.” Their gaze shifts to the ground. “We want to help you get home. Will you let us?” The children look to one another, even the smallest. A few of them nod, others look unsure. When you look to your friends Rodimus mouths out “boss?” to you, and you shrug with a slight smile. Looking back to the small group you find the eldest has stepped forward.

“We wanna go home.” You nod and stand slowly, holding the youngest’s hand as they cluster to you.

 

By the time your group has reached the airlock once again Skids has landed a shuttle, eyes widening when he spots the group. You step on first, helping them up one at a time. With the final child on Skids closes the door and begins the trip back over, the others riding alongside.

You didn’t sign up for this. The crew most certainly did not sign up for this. But the look on their faces was all you needed to see to know one thing: You’d be damned if you let any of them be hurt again.


	2. Future Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The liaison meets with the bots involved in the discovery to figure out what, exactly, to do for eleven children on this trainwreck of a ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started I was gonna say this is set in season 1, but I think instead it'll be a season 2 AU where Drift didn't get kicked out. 
> 
> I didn't exactly put thought into how that would work. I just want Drift but I also want Nautica, Ten, etc. Sue me.

As soon as the shuttle landed you brought the children to your habsuite and began pulling out your sweats and tshirts. One of the girls was making do with an old musty sheet as a hijab, so you also took out a scarf, glad to see it would be used well- it was never really necessary, anyway, since your suit kept you warm when necessary. She gave you a soft smile and held it close, but not without a quick gesture. It takes a moment for it to click that she’s using sign language.

“I’m sorry,” you crouch, “I don’t really know sign language. But I’m gonna learn, okay?”

“Thank you.” The words fumble in her mouth, but it’s enough for you to understand.

“You’re welcome.” You flash her a smile again and stand back up to continue looking for anything that might work well for the kids. When you’ve finished that you also fish out your emergency candy supply and leave the small container open next to everything else. Having done what you can you look back to the group. 

“I need to go talk to my friends really fast about getting you all home, okay?” A few of them exchange furtive glances. “Once I get back I want to get to know each and every one of you, and then we’re gonna visit the doctor to make sure you’re healthy. In the meantime, see if you think any of my clothes’ll be more comfortable, get cleaned up, and help yourself to the candy.” You walk over to the oldest, Jedah- you made a point of getting their little leader’s name- and hand him a walkie talkie. “If any of you need anything, and I mean anything, just press this to call me.” He takes it silently.

Once more before leaving you look to the kids. A few of them thumb through the piles of clothes, and a few of the girls slip into your bathroom. They look so... defeated. It's not fair. Before you can dwell any longer you excuse yourself, mindful not to close the door too loudly. You didn’t even realize how tense you were until you felt your shoulders ease. It takes so much not to cry as you walk toward Rodimus’s office. None of this is fair. You don’t even know what exactly happened, but it’s painfully obvious that it was nothing good. One of the girls even has a bandage over an eye almost soaked through with old blood. It gets to the point where you need to take a minute to compose yourself before knocking.

Drift opens the door with an unreadable expression, stepping to the side to let you through before closing it again. Skids, Ratchet, Perceptor, Ultra Magnus, and Rodimus are already in the room with him.

“How are they?” Rodimus lowers his feet from his desk and props his arms up in their place.

“Quiet. I left them to get cleaned up, but I'm not sure they'll even really move. It wouldn’t surprise me if they think there’s a catch- even if I’m another human, who knows how long they were… you know, for whatever reason.”

“Actually, we have an idea of that.” Skids folds his arms. “Drift, Magnus, and I went back over to poke around. We got onto their computers, and got at least a rough picture from what was salvageable.”

“Which is?”

“Trafficking. Humans have barely stepped into the intergalactic community- makes em, well, exotic. Logs indicated there were others- kids and adults- at one point, too, but…” You take in a shaky breath.

“Okay, trafficking would explain why the ship was targeted. Angry client, unpaid debt, whatever. But why would they be so physically abused if they were to be, well…” Magnus hums.

“It may have been a warning. Valuable or not, there would have been an order to maintain. When injury to the instigator isn’t sufficient, it would be natural to turn one’s aggression to someone important to them.”

“That makes sense…”

“Something else is on your mind.” Drift eyes you carefully.

“Well, what are the odds that the only survivors we find on a huge transport ship are eleven human children? That they ended up somewhere unscathed enough to continue supplying oxygen?”

“Ship’s crew probably scattered.” Rodimus adjusts himself. Magnus nods.

“None of the escape pods remained.”

“Maybe they were in the right place at the right time, then? You saw the ship- it was a slaughterhouse. A few kids hiding away could easily go unnoticed.”

“It still seems impossible…”. Nothing about this sits right with you.

“Possible or not, here we are. With eleven human children on a ship that can hardly go a week without some kind of incident.” For once Ratchet’s frustrations are aimed at a situation instead of an individual, but only because the instigator is unknown.

“That’s another thing," you sigh. "They can’t stay here. But how do we get them back to Earth? We can’t turn the whole ship around.” 

“First we restore communications,” Perceptor folds his arms. “Once we learn of any possible solutions proposed by Earth or Cybertron, we can begin to concern ourselves with the logistics.”

“Okay, that… yeah, that makes sense.” You rest your head in your hand. “That just leaves one little thing: How are we going to accommodate them? I mean, my food stores aren’t anything to sneeze at, but eleven more mouths…. Plus they’ll need some kind of bedding, not to mention clothes and at least one more bathroom.”

“Brainstorm and I can work on your bathrooms, at the very least. It shouldn’t prove too difficult to replicate what was installed. Your bed frames would also be easy to make with excess materials.” 

“There is an organic planet coming up. They may have something suitable for clothing, or at the very least bedding.” Magnus's gaze doesn't leave the data pad in his hand.

“If their food is safe for me, I can eat that for at least a bit.” It’s not the most appealing thing, but the kids have sacrificed enough as is without even consenting. You can eat weird space goo if you have to. 

“Alright then, we have a battle plan!” Rodimus claps and points to the ceiling enthusiastically. “Then let’s get to it!”

You hang back as the others file out, lost to yourself again. A large finger on your shoulder jolts you from your haze.

“What about you?” Turning around you see Rodimus kneeling, uneasy.

“What about me?”

“How are you holding up?”

“I… I’m not sure. I've been too worried about them to think of anything else." How are you doing? "I'm angry, I guess, but also… scared. I’m not quite sure I’m cut out for this.”

“Cut out for what?”

“Raising eleven kids. After all, who knows how long they’ll be with us.”

“Who said you’d be doing it alone?” Rodimus drops into a sitting position on the floor, finger level with your nose. “As far as I’m concerned, those tykes are just as much our responsibility as yours. If they don’t take to us, then we’ll try and lighten your workload where we can. Otherwise, well, those kids better get used to having 200 older siblings." He pauses. "Parents? Not-exactly-legal-but-not-illegal guardians? Whatever. Point is, we’re not gonna sit here and watch. That’s not what we do.” You smile, resting a hand on his leg.

“Thanks, Rodimus.” He returns your smile before spinning you back around to face the door.

“Of course! Now then, we don’t wanna keep them waiting too long, right?” Oh crap that’s true- You wave as you bolt out the door and back down the halls.


	3. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These aren't just random kids- they're individuals, and you're gonna make sure you get to know each and every one of them.

“I’m coming in, okay?” The lack of response has you nervous, but there’s not much you can do except slowly open the door and peek your head in.

They’re sound asleep on the floor, clean from the shower and swimming in your clothes. A couple of candy wrappers are scattered about, so you make yourself busy gathering them up. Do they feel that safe here, just because you’re human? It makes you glad, sure, but there’s something bittersweet about it. Regardless, you pull your comm out and let Ratchet know you’ll be running a little late. Once that message is sent you get a notification of an incoming one from Rodimus.

_Rodimus: okay wait i forgot to ask before- boss?_

You chuckle, mindful to keep your voice down.

_Y/N: it wasnt a lie- when it comes to earth i kinda am your boss. besides, it seemed to win them over, right?_

_Rodimus: i_

_Rodimus: fine, youre right._

Just as you’re about to type out a response one of the kids, the blonde boy, begins stirring.

 _Y/N: kids are waking up, gotta go_

You pocket your comm as he sits up groggily, watching the way he takes in his surroundings. First, he startles upright. Before anything else he takes a mental count of his friends, only relaxing once they’re all accounted for. Poor kid was probably in charge of keeping them all safe, alive, for however long they were alone. It’s not fair- he’s too young to feel the weight of ten other lives on his shoulders. 

Slowly you make your way over, careful to leave plenty of distance, before sitting down and addressing him.

“You won’t be sleeping on the floor long. My friends are working on making beds.” He jumps, whipping his head around to face you. It takes a moment, and he shuffles back a bit, but he seems to relax once he places you as the same person from before. 

“You did a really good job looking out for them. But you can trust us to take over now. You’re allowed to be a kid, too.” He looks away. “I know we introduced ourselves before, but let’s do it again now that we’re somewhere more comfortable. I’m Y/N.”

“...Jedah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jedah.” It really isn’t- in a perfect world you’d have no idea he exists, because he’d still be on Earth with his family.

“How do you trust them?” While it’s not surprising that that’s the first thing out of his mouth, it certainly does sting. A child shouldn’t be this jaded. From those you’ve interacted with since the invasion of Earth, most were still open-minded toward the Cybertronians as a whole.

“Well, I met them because of my job. I’m here to tell people on Earth about what we find on our quest. At first, that’s all it was. But I got to know them, and make friends, and now I couldn’t imagine my life without them.” No, wait, that almost makes it sound like it’s bad for him to not like them. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be their friends, but I can promise you all they want is to help. They’re the good guys.” While Jedah begins to mull over what you said the others slowly get up.

“Sleep well?” You get a few sleepy nods and one tearful smile from a young boy with straight black hair.

“It’s… it wasn’t a dream…” you shuffle closer to him.

“No, it wasn’t. You’re here now, and we’re gonna take care of you until you get home.” He nods furiously, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

***

On your way to the med bay you learn their names.

Monay is the youngest by far, likely no older than three. She seems more tired than anything else, if her sleepy “morning!” was anything to go by. Whoever looked after her did an amazing job of shielding her from as much as they could- while keeping her stylish, too, judging by the two puffballs of pigtails atop her head.

Marie only has a year on her, at most. She’s the one with the old bandages on her eye. What little English she knows is heavily accented, French if you had to guess. You’ve yet to see her without a blanket clutched to her chest- hopefully she’ll at least let you wash it.

An is a quiet five year old boy who has been sticking to the older kids like glue. Moving through the halls he always manages to wedge himself between you and Jedah, which isn’t exactly surprising. If anything, you expected more of the kids to be like this. He, like Marie, is not a native English speaker, and you’re pretty sure his accent is Japanese. You’d ask, but you’d rather not cause any extra homesickness.

Emilia is six, and from America. Her eye is in better shape than Marie’s, but only in that it’s still there. She’s been one of the more outgoing kids, having relaxed enough around the Cybertronians to walk off the shuttle with a bit of confidence in her step. Though she’s been fairly upbeat overall, the look of longing in her eyes at the sight of the twins doesn’t go unnoticed.

Isabell- Izzy- is one of three seven year olds. Her glasses have a crack running up one of the lenses, but if it’s there then there’s a chance one of the scientifically inclined bots can replicate or repair it. Passing windows leaves her conflicted, a glimmer of curiosity masked by a mix of fear and sadness.

Brook is always moving, weaving amongst the group to share jokes, quick tickles- anything to get a laugh or a smile. He actually managed to make Rodimus cry within an hour of arriving, just by walking up to him and saying “thank you.” For a moment you were afraid he’d try and scoop him into a well-meaning but counterproductive hug, but he was too busy being overwhelmed by what the boy’d managed to do. 

Duiri is the last of the sevens, and everything you’ve learned of her has been either second-hand or something she did. She always helps Monay to her feet, often holding her hand to steady her. When you first pulled out clothes she began passing things around before even considering herself. You’ve never personally heard her talk, but she nodded when you asked if she could. It certainly isn’t surprising that someone would become selectively mute after everything, but she could have also very well been so before.

Sunan is one of two nine year old twins, well-meaning but a bit awkward. You’ve already seen him being dragged around by his sister on multiple occasions. Though he participates in his her antics, he’s also the first to apologize when things go awry. Which will likely be often, given…

Sanoh. The best way you can describe her is a small, human, non-homicidal Whirl. Although she certainly hesitated when first faced by Rodimus and co., now she’s seemed to make it her personal mission to prove she has absolutely no fear of the Cybertronians. This was great, until you realized it meant she would grab Sunan and run off every other second to say hi to whoever was passing through the halls on your way to the med bay.

Sumaira is another nine year old, the girl who was sorely in need of a hijab replacement earlier. She was right behind Brook, nodding along with his thanks with a soft smile, but the way she fidgeted with her hands didn’t escape notice. It was her and Jedah taking charge when you first found the kids, and she’s surprisingly good at keeping the younger ones happy and distracted and the older ones hopeful.

Jedah is easily the oldest at eleven, and clearly their leader. This, in turn, means he never lets his guard down and has become quite the light sleeper, if he wasn’t one before. You can tell him all you want that it’s okay to be a kid again, but he probably won’t believe it until he experiences it. Hopefully as the younger ones get used to things he’ll lighten up, too, but for now you’ll just have to make sure to reassure him as much as possible.

The med bay’s doors have never seemed so heavenly. Of course, now you’ll have to start working on helping them to adjust to the Cybertronians, but at least you won’t be wrangling them, by which you mean Sanoh, in the right direction. You knock twice with your free hand, the other occupied by An.

“Ratchet?”

There’s a creak and a grunt before the door opens to a crouched Ratchet. 

That certainly explains the sounds.

“Sorry for being late.” An shuffles behind you.

“It’s fine,” he waves you off as he stands to move out of the way. When you try to follow you’re yanked back by the unmoving boy. This prompts you to look over to the others and of _course_ they’re terrified, many would still be scared of a human doctor at this age. You take a moment before kneeling.

“I know doctor’s aren’t fun, but I promise you nothing bad’s gonna happen. In fact, I’ll be going first. You can all see exactly what Ratchet here’s gonna check.” Jedah watches you like a hawk before giving a nod. Finally, they seem willing enough to at least walk in. “And if anyone really _really_ doesn’t want to do this, we can try and figure something else out. But this is the best way for us to check you all.” With that Ratchet offers you a hand and lifts you up onto the medical berth. Here comes the moment of truth: He bends back over and holds out his hand again.

“Would anyone else like to get up there?” Jedah looks ready to turn him down for all of them but Monay of all people cuts him off.

“Up! Up!” She toddles over and tumbles down against him. Duiri hesitates before helping her up and stepping on with her, watching Ratchet. He cups both his hands together and is careful to move as smoothly as possible before allowing them to slide down next to you. Unfortunately for the more hesitant children, this sets a precedent- regardless of their own concerns, none of them want to be split up. So, by some miracle, everyone joins you atop the berth. You can only hope the rest of this visit goes as smoothly, for everyone's sake.


	4. Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids meet Ratchet and Velocity, and you start to figure out what exactly you're in for.

“So you know when you go to a doctor and they want to check your temperature and stuff like that? It won’t be too different.” You walk a few steps from the group while Ratchet readies a scanner of some sort. Honestly, you’re not sure what it is. Last time you asked about something like that you got a crazy technical answer which deterred you from all future inquiries.

“The procedure is fairly similar to one of your X-rays. In fact, the only difference is that it does more than depict bones.”

“Oh! I had one of those when I broke my arm!” Sanoh exclaims, waving one such limb above her head. This news doesn’t exactly surprise you.

“And you didn’t feel anything with that, right?” You look over your shoulder as you stand with your arms out to either side.

“Nope! I mean the weird vest thing was heavy but the X-ray didn’t feel like anything.” 

“This is just like that, and you don’t even need the vest.” You turn back to Ratchet who levels the device with you. With steady hands he moves it down your figure as a model of your body appears on a nearby monitor.

“Alright, spin.” You do as instructed, allowing him to repeat the process.

“That just looks like a picture.” Izzy tilts her head.

“Not a picture, a full body render. If I do this,” he swipes at the display, sending the little digital you spinning, “I can see the whole body. If I want to check your skeleton,” he taps on his keypad and your body vanishes, leaving your bones on display, “I just disable everything else. And this here,” he points to a string of Cybertronian, “is Y/N’s body temperature.”

“Can it tell you our birthdays? Blood type?” Brooke bounces on his feet.

“It’s a medical tool, not a mind reading device.” What would usually be a snarky response is much more playful. You have to give Ratchet credit- Maybe it’s his being a doctor, or having spent so much time with humans during the war, but he treats the kids right. Not that the others who’ve interacted with them treated them bad- but he indulges their curiosity and does his best to be transparent, the same as what a human doctor would do.

“So who wants to go next?” Jedah stepping forward doesn’t surprise you, but what he asks does.

“Does it have to be in front of everyone?”

“Of course not! I just let Ratchet demonstrate with me, you guys can go with whoever you want, or no one at all.”

“Well I have to be there. Since I’m the doctor.” You turn your head and stick your tongue out at Ratchet. Childish, sure, but it gets a few chuckles.

“Y/N, can you wheel over that partition?” He gestures toward what seems to have been lifted right out of a hospital. You do as instructed while he sorts out who goes when. For the most part they seem willing to go one at a time, likely because the only separation is a curtain. The only exceptions are Sumaira, who goes to help keep Monay contained, and the twins. It’s then you notice Sumaira seems extra nervous, and it clicks.

“Ratch, is Velocity around?”

“She’s not on duty right now, but she’s probably in the area.” You guessed right, based on Sumaira’s reaction to “she.” “Why?” If Sumaira didn't choose to bring up her beliefs- or her family's, she's young enough that she may not've considered things for herself yet- then you don't want to bring attention to it. You could try and swing it as a "some girls prefer girl doctors" thing, but their pronoun usage doesn't change the fact that none of the Cybertronians are male, female, or non-binary because they aren't humans in the first place. Plus Ratchet is the resident human expert, it only makes sense that he would be the one to do this. The fact that you don’t have an immediate answer seems to tip him off to the nature of this at the very least.

“I’ll see if she can come in.” When you glance to Sumaira you catch her sign, the same one as when you gave her a scarf. You mouth out “you’re welcome” before returning your attention to the medic.

“She’s on her way. In the meantime, I’d like to start with the others. Jedah, right?” The blonde nods. “This way.”

One by one Ratchet works down the line. He did quietly discuss something with Jedah, but you walked away to try and avoid hearing too much. Kids or not, their privacy is important. Marie and Emilia take a bit longer, and the former walks out with a much better wrapping on her eye. Ratchet shoots you a bitter look after that one- you’ll have to talk to him about what seems to have happened later.

Velocity walks in as Ratchet finishes with Izzy, and while she must’ve known she was called to help with the kids she’s still a bit startled by them.

“Y/N! Y/N!” She motions for you to walk closer, a bit further out of the kids’ earshot. She leans down and whispers into your ear. “They’re so small! How are they so small?” You could discuss human reproduction, but figure that’s probably horribly unnecessary. 

“That’s how human kids are. We start small and grow on and off for 18 years, give or take.”

“How small do they start?” It takes you a second to think about it before you hold out your hands.

“About this big? But it depends on a whole bunch of stuff.” She tilts her head in thought, but Ratchet is quick to pull her back to the reason she’s here.

“Sumaira here would be more comfortable if you were to do her exam.” The girl gives half a nod to the half truth.

“Me? Why? I’ve only ever even seen Ratchet and First Aid treat Y/N a handful of times.” Ratchet takes a few steps over.

“It’s just a quick diagnostic.” While he encourages her you approach Sumaira and kneel closer to her level.

“Velocity’s a new doctor, but she’s really nice.” You try to enunciate extra clearly to maybe make it easier to read your lips. She nods before following Velocity to the other side, at which point you return to the group, where Ratchet is recording the kids’ heights and weights. Once Sumaira finishes she too comes over, and with her information recorded Ratchet is ready to give an overview of the group.

“Some of this will be conjecture- while I would like to take blood samples, with no visible need I figured it best to postpone that. Based on what Jedah has told me, everyone is malnourished and dehydrated. Their weights certainly confirm the former. We’ll need to see what supplements we have with appropriate dosages, along with nutritional foodstuffs.” Sanoh raises her hand, but doesn’t even wait to be addressed.

“I don’t like broccoli! Or spinach!” Ratchet fixes you with a quizzical look. He’s probably never seen picky eating? For the most part Cybertronians only have one option for real sustenance, everything else is just fluff. Given that you obviously wouldn’t waste space on food you don’t like, it makes sense that he’d never seen this behavior before.

“Well Sanoh,” You tilt your head, “do you like being sick more?” The fact that she actually pauses to think is believable but concerning. “The correct answer is ‘no.’” You push her arm back down to her side. 

“And Marie,” your gaze follows Ratchet’s to the girl in question, “I need to change your bandage every day while it heals. Okay?” The little girl bundles her blanket closer to her face. “I know it’s not fun, but we don’t want it getting worse, right?” She nods.

“You can trust Ratchet, Marie. He’s like a super doctor. He’s actually famous for how many people he’s helped.” It’s not much, but she peeks out a bit from her blanket. 

“We don’t have to meet here, if it makes you uncomfortable. And if you’d feel better with someone with you, that’s fine.” Once again she retreats into the folds of fabric, but not without nodding in understanding. “Tell Y/N here if you don’t want to meet here tomorrow, and we’ll see what we can do.” Again, she nods.

“Well, now that everyone’s got a clean bill of health, how about food?” That certainly gets everyone’s attention. “Maybe pancakes,” you whip around to Ratchet, “with lots of fruit and stuff! And some eggs!” He lets out a well meaning huff. 

“You’re the resident human expert.” You nudge his thumb playfully while climbing into his palm along with a few of the kids. The way you've been bantering back and forth with him seems to have helped them relax at least a little to his presence- you’ll have to thank him for going along with it later. Velocity helps the others down, and the group recollects once back on the ground. 

“Thanks again,” you wave to the medics, Brooke, Sanoh, and Monay mirroring the action. Duiri, Izzy, Sunan, and An do the same, albeit much more subdued. Emilia, Jedah, and Sumaira nod at them. So does Marie, the corners of a smile noticeable behind her blanket.

Once again you begin leading the children through the massive halls. For the most part the bots stay out of your way, but a few of them do stop to smile in your direction or wave. You wonder if it was part of Rodimus’s debrief to try and be extra welcoming. If that is the case, you’re not quite sure how you feel about that. The kids seem to share your sentiment- some love the interaction, others pull closer to you or the older kids. You’ll have to talk to him later.

But first, pancakes. You’re gonna pan those cakes like your life depends on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once the pancake event is done I'm probably going to have liaison discuss everything with the bots again, then I'll time skip a smidge to the kids bonding with their guardians. It's really hard to juggle all eleven of them at once, so I'm hoping doing that will really let them shine.


	5. Pancakes and Pillow Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lost Light might just be able to do this.

After leading the kids back to your habsuite you hurry off toward what everyone affectionately calls “Little Earth,” started once Swerve learned of Little Italy. It’s a bit of a stretch for the comparison- in reality, it’s just food storage. You don’t have the greenest of thumbs, so the green room portion is limited to easy to care for plants. The rest of your produce is frozen, but while you pulled out all sorts of fruits you made sure to stop and grab some fresh apples. Once you finally stuff your shelf-stable egg substitute, the origin of which you choose to ignore, into your bag, you make your way back to the room. You won’t be able to treat the kids to this stuff all the time- you rarely eat this instead of your MREs because of how limited the supply is- but for today, they deserve everything you can pull together.

When you walk in you find the kids huddled together, those you can see with shaking shoulders. Immediately you shove your groceries onto the closest surface and rush over.

“Is everything okay?!” Brook turns to you, tears in his eyes and a wide smile on his face.

“Monay- she just- !” He can’t get the words out between his laughter, but it’s pretty obvious what happened: Monay is sitting there with her front soaking wet and a plastic cup at her side, giggling. Duiri is dabbing at her with a paper towel, but even she can’t hide her laughter. Maybe you should’ve just given her a water bottle like everyone else when you left. Then again, you don’t know kids. This could’ve been the inevitable outcome. 

“You should dry off soon, right Monay?” You poke at her stomach, prompting another fit of laughter. “Alright then, let’s get to cooking. Who wants to help?” Everyone cheers, even Monay. The enthusiasm is touching, if not a bit concerning. Right now you’re working with something in between a kitchen and a kitchenette- even just two holoforms can make it crowded. 

Thankfully, the roles work themselves out. You don’t have tons of extra dishes, so Izzy, Sunan, and Sanoh are in charge of keeping things clean. Marie is at the sink rinsing off apples while Duiri and Sumaira slice them. Brook, Emilia, and An get the frozen fruit in bowls and work on getting them ready to go into the batter. Monay is “supervising”, which translates to sitting on your bed and fumbling with your pillow. Jedah flips pancakes like a pro while you keep an eye on everyone and scramble up the eggs.

Everyone sits together on the floor, having made up their own plates from the assortment. Maybe it’s the warm food, but everyone seems to be in surprisingly good spirits. You take bites of your own meal in between helping Monay out. Conversation is strained, given the emotional minefield most topics are, but when there’s a lull you just make a point of making Monay laugh- it’s easy, and it’s hard to resist joining in to some degree. 

All and all, it’s peaceful. There are already signs of the immediate relief wearing off, especially in An. Hopefully with this, you’ve started off on the right foot. You’re pulled from your wondering when one of Sunan’s blueberries erupts upon fork contact, a drop landing squarely on his sister’s nose. Her eyes twinkle as she sets her plate down.

Oh no.

She looks to the throw pillow she’s sitting on.

_Oh no._

In a fluid, almost rehearsed motion, she whips it out from beneath her and bops him square in the face. For a moment, all is still. 

And then all hell breaks loose.

Pillows soar, dragging someone new into the fray each time one connects with an unintended victim. You, Jedah, and Sumaira scramble to save the plates of food from a plush death. Once they’re saved, you notice the two torn between joining in and remaining responsible caretakers. You pick up a few pillows from your feet and hold them out with what you hope is a playful smile. They look to each other, to you, to the cushions, and then arm themselves before leaping into the fray. You resign yourself to supervising, making sure it stays fun and safe, sneaking a photo every now and then.

 

Eventually, with bellies full and energy spent, the kids collapse to the floor to sleep. It hurts your heart to see how tense some of them are, but you suppose it can’t be helped. Things will likely get more difficult as this initial relief wears off, and there’s no doubt they’re all plagued by memories and fears- some shared, others unique. Still, you can’t help but smile through your sigh. Careful not to disturb you move about laying blankets over them. 

They’re strong. In some ways, maybe too strong for their own good. 

Whether they truly realize it or not, though, they’re not alone anymore. The Lost Light’s gonna do whatever it takes to let them rest easy once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I might be oversimplifying the kids' emotions right now- hopefully I can fix that when I do their little focus chapters. If you want the real good angst, though, check out all the stuff here: https://artoutforblood.tumblr.com/tagged/kids%20of%20the%20lost%20light


	6. Commanders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As co-captain, Megatron needs to know about what happens on the ship. As an Autobot, Rodimus isn't so sure that applies here.

Ultra Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“Rodimus, we need to tell Megatron about what’s transpiring.”

“Did your vocalizer glitch out? You forgot the ‘do not’ in there.” He swings his legs up onto his desk.

“He is captain-“

“Co-captain!”

“-co-captain of this ship. He needs to know that there are eleven newcomers.” Rodimus lets his head fall back. 

“ _Human_ newcomers. Kids!”

“Megatron has been perfectly professional with Y/N, despite his opinion of organics and history with Earth.”

“Alright, lemme spin it this way: It’s been what, four years? Five? Since that all went down. Doesn’t that mean there’s a chance some of ‘em remember him?”

“I never said they should meet. Just that Megatron needs to know of the situation.” Rodimus mulls this over. 

He’s not stupid, despite what his carefree disposition may imply. He knows that Magnus’s right. It’s just that the idea of involving Megatron in all of this really doesn’t sit right. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled back when he, as Hot Rod, had been stranded on Earth. The troubles caused by the humans then had left a bit of a sour taste in his mouth, too. But those he worked with getting a liaison on board were fine, and Y/N’s been a blast and a half to have around. Basically, while he hadn’t been crazy about humanity at first, he was willing enough to give them a chance. And while he may not understand much about human children, he gets that these eleven are scared and need help- help that he can provide. He’s willing to learn if it means doing the right thing and inspiring hope.

Megatron… he’s not so sure about.

“I’ll comm him now, I guess.” Magnus nods. 

“Good.” He remains firmly planted in place. Rodimus begrudgingly pings his co-captain.

_Rodimus: Megs, come to my office. There’s something we need to talk about._

_Megatron: Understood. I will be there shortly._

Normally he’d get some kind of quip for calling him “Megs.” Maybe it’s the general tone of the request, or the fact that he messaged him at all, but the other mech takes it all in stride.

They may be co-captains, but that doesn’t mean they make a habit of interacting over private comms- the fact that he can even do this makes him sick when he dwells on it too much. No matter what went down before the trial on Cybertron, there’s no way it could make up for the millions of years of war, the friends and strangers alike lost to his movement. The Autobots weren’t perfect, but at least their cause didn’t support genocide.

And yet here he was, preparing to make him privy to the presence of eleven tiny scared organics.

“Rodimus, you know as well as I that Megatron has been nothing bu-“

“You really don’t need to tell me. He hasn’t backstabbed us yet, he’s been a good co-captain, blah-blah-“ He’s interrupted by a knock. “It’s open.”

Megatron steps in, glancing between the two.

“Is something the matter?”

“Yes and no. There is a ‘something’ but it’s under control.” Rodimus gets up and leans against the wall furthest from him.

“Is it related to the meeting you called yet insisted I need not intended?”

“Yeah, there’s a… a slight thing? And…” Rodimus hesitates, still not convinced this is necessary.

“Eleven human children are traveling with us for the foreseeable future.” Rodimus and Megatron both snap to Magnus.

“Surely you’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. They were discovered on a failing vessel, where they had been held for a currently unknown length of time.” Megatron closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh.

It’s been hard enough for him to work with one human. Y/N has proven time and again that humans are as nuanced as Cybertronians, and capable of so much more than he had once given them credit for. Though their species is so much younger, their average lifespans so much shorter, it no longer justifies his original views. In fact, if he had first conversed with Y/N in a text chat, he may very well have mistaken them for Cybertronian.

And this terrifies him.

“How old are they?” Rodimus squints.

“Some of them are old enough.” He pauses. “Technically I can’t give you orders. But this isn’t an order, or a request for that matter.” He stands straight, eyes burning with the fire of the Prime he once claimed to be. “Stay away from them.”

"You assume I-" Rodimus holds a hand up.

"Just. Stay. Away." Megatron holds his gaze for a moment before giving a slight nod and turning back out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka I need to retcon the fact that chapter 1 was when I thought I was setting this in season 1.
> 
> Rodimus might've ended up a smidge ooc at the end there but no matter what I tweaked it didn't feel better


	7. Spotlight: Monay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus reflects on the way his life has changed since meeting the children, and Monay.

There was a time when managing records and paperwork was all it took to leave Ultra Magnus in a good mood. When he came to realize Ten’s desire for his friendship, he found himself enjoying working side-by-side with the mech, listening to the rhythmic motions of his personal projects. Now that the children had joined them, there had been a slight addition to this routine- the cheerful babble of a child. He pauses for a moment to look to the two off to the side.

Ten is laying on his stomach, watching as Monay fumbles with a small plate of paint before toddling back over. There’s a slight mess on the floor, but nothing that can’t be cleaned up with a quick wipe. That’s a strange feeling for Magnus- allowing a mess to remain. He argues that there’d be no point cleaning it up before she’s done, as another will surely take its place. And it’s not as though she’s intentionally creating a mess- just that she lacks the fine motor skills to prevent them entirely. In fact, if he had to guess, it looks like she’s being extra careful to keep the paint contained to her makeshift palette, brush, and… Ten’s face?

“What are you two doing?” Monay looks up, grin instantly expanding.

“Uncle Mags!”

“Ten,” Ten explains, careful to keep his head steady.

“Makeup? I see…” Looking more closely, there does seem to be a pattern to the marking on his face. Magnus doesn’t realize how intent his stare is, though, until he feels tiny hands poking at his shin. Monay is staring up at him, positively glowing.

“Uncle Mags wanna turn?” 

“I… uh…” Never before has he been at such a loss for words. The accurate answer is no, he most certainly does not want a turn. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. The correct answer, though, is yes. Monay doesn’t even wait for him to respond, though, instead returning to the ever-patient Ten. 

“First Uncle Ten.” She continues her work, allowing Magnus to do the same. He sits, makes sure Monay is amply distracted, and drops his head to his desk. There’s no way to avoid the situation without hurting the girl’s feelings. In which case, would it make more sense to actively engage in the activity? The others are already undoubtedly going to mock him for this. If that’s the case, he may as well take the extra step with his charge. While he resumes his tasks he comms you with his concerns.

_Ultra Magnus: Y/N, I have a question regarding the paints your provided to Monay._

He continues working while awaiting the response.

_Y/N: I’ll answer if I can, but you may be better off asking Perceptor or Nautica._

_Ultra Magnus: Is it safe for them to come in contact with human skin?_

_Y/N: Skin, yes. Monay should be fine as long as she doesn’t ingest it or get it in her eyes._

_Y/N: Why?_

_Ultra Magnus: No reason. I apologize for keeping you from your work._

With that Magnus works in silence until being summoned by Monay. He takes a moment to mentally prepare himself before facing her masterpiece that is Ten. It certainly could be worse- when he keeps in mind the heavy makeup he’s seen in some Earth movies, he can understand why she made the artistic decisions she did. Still, the lines are unsteady and jut off in random directions, and at a certain point she seems to have switched to face painting. It’s adorable, honestly, though he doesn’t think in these precise words.

He just doesn’t necessarily want to be next.

Regardless, he steels himself and takes a seat on the floor opposite the two. Ten carefully squeezes some extra paint onto her plate with a dexterity that would only surprise Magnus if he hadn’t previously seen his work. 

“Thank ‘ou!” She beams at him while toddling to his outstretched hand, allowing him to lift her to Magnus’s face. He keeps his hands cupped, creating a seat of sorts for her with no room to fall.

“Ten,” he mutters to Magnus with a head tilt.

“It’s quite alright. An artist needs her practice, after all.” The paint is cool on his face, and the repetitive strokes are actually fairly relaxing. For a moment he forgets about his image, or any of his responsibilities. He instead takes in his environment- the infant smiling and laughing in his presence, babbling her thoughts before the two metal giants as if it was completely normal for one like her.

He allows himself to pretend this is how things will be now. Despite the struggles, he truly loves watching Monay learn and grow and love unconditionally. Of course, he doesn’t let the thought linger- she has her own creators, her parents- who must surely be feeling the hole left by the very things he’s now cherishing.

“Done!” His thoughts roll to a stop as he re-focuses on Monay and Ten. 

“I can’t wait to see what you’ve done. But before that, I believe it is now _your_ turn, Monay.” He hadn’t thought it possible, but her smile widens. After taking a few steps back and transforming he activates his holoform, the flurry of sparks leaving her giggling in the spot where Ten has set her down. He carefully retrieves the supplies from her as she leans against Ten’s leg. It’s only then that he realizes the most artistic thing he’s ever really done is fashion Autobrands. 

“Ten.”

“My spark, you say…” He does his best to take Ten’s advice, focusing everything he has on, strangely enough, not focusing. Monay squirms a bit under the brush’s touch, giggling with every motion. 

***

You’re supervising the kids’ rec room alongside Rodimus and Rewind. Most are out and about with their guardians, leaving only An, Sunan, and Izzy to watch. Rewind is showing footage of various star systems to Izzy, who seems to be devouring everything. An and Sunan wander over too, more interested in the swirling lights dancing about. This leaves you and Rodimus a chance to chat, something you haven’t had too much of ever since adding child care to your list of responsibilities. You hear the door open and glance over. It’s Magnus, judging by the glimpse of his torso you caught. Rodimus had done the same, but instead of returning to the conversation his face goes completely blank. Slowly, his mouth draws into a disbelieving smile, eyes tracking Magnus as he walks further in to set Monay down. Rewind turns at his approach, too, instantly snapping off his projection to start recording. Sunan snorts, and Izzy turns away with a hand over her mouth. An just stares.

And then Magnus turns around, and you understand everything.

His face is a mess of colors, none of which particularly go together. You can guess the culprit, though it seems here Magnus had managed to get back in his own way, having left a painfully detailed (albeit squiggly) Autobrand on her cheek. Given his subject, the unsteady lines are likely not his fault..

“I see you two spent some time bonding today.” You try desperately to keep your expression in the professional neutral-pleasant zone, but it’s getting harder as Rodimus’s stifled laughter grows louder. Magnus opens his mouth to respond but stops when he feels something tiny bump his ankle.

He looks down to where Monay is, arms stretched as wide as possible in an attempt at a hug. With a chuckle he bends over, cupping her gently while allowing her to hug his thumb. You lean over to Rodimus and chuckle.

“I swear, as soon as Monay appears it’s like the rest of the universe vanishes to him.” Rodimus laughs at that, gesturing back to the pair as Monay waves Magnus’s face closer.

“I gotta secret!”

“Oh?” He leans in closer, tilting his head. You can’t catch what she says, and Rodimus’s shrug implies he can’t either. But the way Magnus’s body goes stiff and his face flushes, you have a guess. After a moment passes he relaxes and actually manages the tiniest of smiles.

“I love you too, little one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how do you write 2/3 year olds.


	8. Spotlight: Jedah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jedah needs a bit of help remembering to relax.

Jedah was one of if not the slowest out of the children to warm up to anyone, yourself included. It makes sense- human amongst the midst or not he _is_ still the oldest of a group of traumatized children thrown into a strange new environment. Without asking for details it’s obvious protecting them became and remains his everything. Everyone is trying in their own ways to tell him to relax and be a kid again, but of course it’s not that easy. 

So needless to say, Chromedome and Rewind are more than a bit surprised when he knocks on their door way past the children’s bedtime. Not the fact that he thought to come to them- as he began to confide in them they made it clear he was always welcome- but that he was actually taking them up on the offer. He stares up at them with reddened eyes, a quiet question answered by Chromedome’s step to the side. He closes the door behind the boy as Rewind helps him onto his berth. Chromedome and his Conjunx sit either side of him as he begins to cry again.

They let him, Rewind rubbing circles on his back with his thumb, until he finally begins to talk between the sobs.

“I… I didn’t want the others to see.” He wipes at the tears, “but I… I didn’t want to be alone. Y/N was already helping An, and… and…” Chromedome shifts to better face him. For a while, the two just sit and let him continue.

“You don’t have to explain it. There doesn’t even always need to be a reason.” He angles his gaze toward both Jedah and Rewind. “Remember, I- we’re always here. Rewind and I, but the rest of the crew, Y/N, your friends. No one expects anyone to take on their problems alone, no matter how big or small.” When he glances over Rewind raises a finger to his faceplate in a silencing gesture, pointing to the boy sleeping against his leg. What Chromedome had interpreted as him calming down must’ve been him drifting to sleep, then. He scoots a little closer and rests his head atop Rewind’s, mindful of Jedah between them.

::How Long were you going to let me keep going?::

::It was a good speech.:: A pause. ::Thanks, Domey.::

::I don’t know what you’re talking about.:: There’s a playful glint to his visor as Rewind shakes his head.

::There has to be something we can do to at least distract him, right?:: Chromedome hums. 

::Probably. But we don’t want to accidentally make him feel even worse, either…::

::Didn’t Y/N mention he likes helping out with their food? What about that?:: Chromedome perks up, the sudden motion causing Jedah to stir. He doesn’t wake, but Chromedome shrinks back sheepishly regardless. Rewind moves the boy to his hands carefully, ready to bring him back to his bed.

***

Jedah waits for the others to leave before exiting the makeshift classroom. He’s at a bit of a loss with what to do when Rewind turns the corner.

“Good! Your still here!” He eyes the mech curiously. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing that can’t be fixed.” He kneels and offers a hand to him, and after a moment’s consideration Jedah climbs on. “Have I mentioned that one of the things I like to archive is culture?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well, food is really important with human culture, right?”

“Um… yeah, I guess so.”

“So then, what do you say? Wanna help me record some human culture?” Rewind opens the door to your hab suite, being that it’s the only space with a kitchen. Chromedome’s standing there, mass displaced to a reasonably human height. Once Jedah’s on the ground Rewind does the same, following behind as Jedah hesitantly enters. A small table’s been pulled out, full of flour, sugar, butter, and all sorts of other general baking necessities. To the side is a single piece of paper- a recipe.

“What is this?” He knows the answer- at least, he thinks he does. It just doesn’t really make sense.

“Baking!” Chromedome looks to Rewind, then Jedah. “It _is_ baking, right? It’s the right stuff?” 

“It… yeah, it is. It’s just… Y/N said stuff like this was for special occasions because of rationing.”

“I’d say getting human baking in the archives for culture’s sake is an occasion,” Rewind hums, pushing at his shoulder playfully. Jedah moves to protest, but decides against it. Instead he walks to the table and picks up the recipe.

“Apple pie?” Chromedome leans over his shoulder to read alongside him.

“Y/N said, and I’m quoting here, ‘stupid Earth decided we needed like 5 stupid apple trees in the green room and now there are too many stupid apples taking up our stupid storage.’” Jedah’s shoulders shake in quiet laughter. 

“Apple pie it is, I guess. What should we do?” 

“You’re the star of the show,” Rewind’s camera clicks on, “You tell us!” Jedah’s face lights up ever so slightly, and the Conjunx exchange and excited look.

***

“Chromedome, how’d you get such a nice pattern in the top?” 

“In my line of work, it’s important to be precise with with your hands. Doing a little bit here wasn’t much.” Jedah shakes his head while carefully laying the top onto the pastry. Once it’s in the oven he takes a step back, only then realizing just how relaxed he had become. In fact, it could very well be the most relaxed he’s been since joining the Lost Light and, by extension, since leaving Earth. 

“You really like baking, huh Jedah?” Rewind leans over his shoulder to look at the pie in the oven.

“Yeah… yeah, I guess I do. There’s always something new to learn, or get better at, and when there isn’t you can make your own combinations. Plus, it makes people happy. Surprising people with their favorite sweets, it always makes them feel better.” A soft smile settles on his face as he talks, a hint of melancholy tinting his voice. “Dad and I did it together sometimes, too. He was always really bad at it. “

“Do and is,” Chromedome corrects. Jedah opens and closes his mouth, then ducks his head.

“Yeah.” 

“Who knows!” Rewind perks up. “Maybe he’s been practicing.” Jedah wipes away a tear and laughs.

“I hope not. I probably won’t have an apartment if he is.” Chromedome’s visor flashes, and he places a hand over his faceplate.

“He’s that bad?” It’s a whisper.

“I’d probably trust Sanoh alone in the kitchen more than him. Rewind makes a snort-like sound as Chromedome’s hands drop to his side.

“Oh Primus, that _is_ bad.”

 

The three don’t even realize how much time passed until the timer beeps. Rewind is in the middle of a very animated retelling of the event  
that lead to Prowl’s second recorded table flip, with Chromedome chiming in details and Jedah near tears with laughter. He takes a few shaky breaths to steady himself before popping on oven mitts and checking the pie.

“It’s done?” Jedah checks the pastry.

“It just needs to cool off now,” he nods, slipping off the mitts and taking a few steps back to admire the work. For a moment, he’s silent. “Thanks.” 

“What for?” Chromedome doesn’t look away from the pie. 

“This. I’m bad at having fun..”

“Hey, that’s okay.” Rewind tests a hand on his shoulder. When he doesn’t pull away, he lets it rest there. “That’s what we’re all here for, right?” Chromedome joins them, pulling everyone into a gentle hug.


	9. Spotlight: Marie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whirl realizes he's basically a parent now. He's surprisingly okay with that.

“You’re sure she needs surgery?” You play with your sleeve, occasionally glancing over to Marie and First Aid over at the berths. Ratchet shifts in his- well, technically First Aid’s- chair.

“As much as I can be. Whatever caused the injury, health wasn’t a concern. We’ve done everything we could to avoid it, but…”. You shake your head.

“I believe you. And I trust your opinion. It’s just… that can be scary for adults, even if it’s a low-risk procedure.”

“I don’t doubt that, but at a certain point health is more important than comfort. It’s why I’m discussing this with you instead of her in the first place.” You sigh, glancing over to the berth where Marie is sat playing with First Aid. 

“I know. And I mean, my vote is to go for it- I trust everyone here and like you said, it’s important for her health. But if she _really_ doesn’t want to…”

“What’s the expression? ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?’” He raises a hand to the side of his head, and you spot First Aid jump a bit out of the corner of your eye. He says something to Marie, looks to you two, and nods. You don’t miss the way his visor dims as he lets her take a finger in her hand before relaying the information.

***

It’s not lost on anyone that Marie is a bit more withdrawn lately. You had explained to everyone that she had an important doctor’s visit to go to, and to the older kids a bit more specifically that she needed surgery on the injured eye. The idea of a procedure didn’t freak any of them out more than usual, for which you were thankful. But that didn’t make it easy for Marie. Ratchet and First Aid were working to get everything ready as quickly as possible so she wouldn’t have time to get too nervous, but there was only so much to be done on the matter. The kids were nervous to bring it up, unsure of how to broach the subject. 

Good thing Whirl knows no fear.

“Yo, squirt!” Marie stops dead in her tracks, angling her head ever so slightly towards him. “What’s eating you?” She bundles her blanket into her face and shakes her head. Whirl walks around to her front, crouches, and lifts her by her shirt into the crook of his free claw. “You okay?” He knows she’s not- normally she’d have said _something_ by now. Her only response is to retreat further into her blanket. “Alright, that’s it, we’re blowing this popsicle stand.” He sets her on his chest and begins his journey through the halls, shooting a glare at anyone who so much as looks at them. Those familiar with the kids know something’s up when Marie doesn’t even wave.

 

Whirl brings her to one of the smaller, unused room and steps into a small garden, different plots dedicated to different soils from different planets, and sets her down. There’s an array of colorful alien flora in different states of growth. He reaches into his subspace and pulls out a small bundle of gardening tools, but she pays them no mind. That’s fine, though- Whirl’s the one who has to do any of the actual gardening anyways, and he’s not really feeling it right now. 

“Alright, it’s just you and Lobster Man now. So spill.” There’s no characteristic snap or bite to the order.

“Ratchet and Aid said I need a special appointment.” Whirl squints.

“You meet with ‘em every day already.”

“Tomorrow’s different.” Whirl squints. Anyone else and he’d be about ready to throttle them for beating around the bush so much. 

“Don’t you trust the doc bots?” Marie looks at him, thinks for a second, and nods. “Then what’s so different?” She opens her mouth to respond, but closes it not long after. “Nothing, right? They’ll do their thing, and then you can go do yours. Same as usual.” Though he’s still not one hundred percent sure what exactly a “special appointment” entails, he’s got a good enough guess. He perks when he hears a few sniffles as Marie nods and rushes the claw hanging at his side, throwing her arms around it. “Hey, careful!” He pats her head with the other. “You know how mad they’ll be at me if you walk in with a big old bruise on your head.” She chuckles and peeks up at him.

“Whirl?”

“Hm?” 

“Will you go with me?” His spark humms the slightest bit louder in his chest.

“I’ll fight the whole damn ship if they try and keep me out.”

***

Marie rubs at her eyes, exhausted from a restless night. Even with Whirl’s reassurances she couldn’t relax enough to get more than a few hours’ sleep. She shuffles out of the room-

-and immediately bumps into someone with a small “eep!”

“Good, I was just gonna knock.” Whirl picks her up and sits her on his chest.

“...I thought Aid was coming? He usually does.” Whirl scoffs.

“Ol’ Whirl here not good enough?”

“N- no! I- I-“

“‘M kidding, kidding. I passed him on the way here and he asked me to.” Without asking whether or not she’s ready- she’s as much as she could be, anyways- he starts walking toward the medibay. There’s an awkward air, Whirl positive he couldn’t start small talk without it going catastrophically. Still, it’s a good ten minutes to their destination, and there’s no way he’s letting it stay silent that long. Only one thing comes to mind, and it’s a last resort.

“What was that movie you like?” Marie cranes her neck back and tilts her head.

“Oh, umm, Beauty and the Beast.” She fidgets with her blanket. “The yellow dress is really pretty.” 

“Yeah, that. What do you say we watch it once the docs give the all clear?” She whips around so fast she almost slides right off of him, and he’s so startled he almost doesn’t catch her. If he had known the stupid thing meant _that_ much to her, he might’ve offered sooner.

Might’ve.

Probably not.

...Actually, that might not be true. 

He watches the tiny little organic, positively glowing as she rattles on and seeming to have completely forgotten the appointment. When did he get so Primus damned attached? Getting on the Lost Light in the first place was an accident- he couldn’t’ve cared less about any of the mechs on board at the time. Now, not only is he Cyclonus’s begrudging wing man, he’s got a teeny tiny human charge.

“Whirl?”

“Hm?”

“You walked past the medibay.”

Oh. That he did.

“Whoops.” First Aid watches from the doorway, a glint to his visor that may just be laughter. If Marie wasn’t with him, Whirl would've been compelled to throw a few harshly worded comments his way. It seems First Aid knows this, too.

“Trying to steal away our patient?” Whirl’s eye narrows, but with Marie waving fairly happily to the medic there’s nothing else he’s willing to do. 

“Depends.” A tiny hand pats his neck.

“It’s okay, Whirl.” The hand on him is shaking- of course she’s nervous. Whirl may not be an expert on humans, or even understand much more than the fact they need different things than Cybertronians, but he knows medical procedures are a much bigger deal for them. First Aid had been sure to drill that into his head when they spoke before. With a huff he follows the medic in and over to a curtained off section, where he sets Marie down next to you as you finish chatting with Ratchet.

The surgical table is surprisingly colorful, painted with flowers and sparkles. You catch Whirl’s curious gaze and send him a message.

_Y/N: we cant exactly ask how she lost the eye- theres a chance it happened on a normal surgical table_

_Y/N: this was the best idea we had to try and avoid triggering her_

His eye hovers on you for a solid five seconds before he gives a nod and plops down on a nearby stool. While the medics finish gathering what they need you help Marie up. The holoforms soon join you, talking and reassuring while they run some tests and wait for the anesthesia to kick in.

***

Whirl’s seen, and suffered, his fair share of damaged eyes as a Wrecker. He figured it couldn’t be _that_ different for a human.

He was wrong. And while he remains vigilant, watching over his charge, all he can think about is how the ones who hurt her better pray they never cross paths.

Well, after he watches that dumb princess movie with her. 

***

You’re holding Marie’s hand, rubbing small circles with your thumb as her eye flutters open. Everything went perfectly, and now you were just waiting for her to come around alongside Whirl and First Aid, after you and the latter had to shoo Ratchet off to recharge. 

“Hey sweetie,” you smile. She looks at you, a lopsided smile slowly spreading across her face. As she takes in her surroundings her hand drifts to the bandages on her face, which you gently push back to her side. She chuckles, then devolves into groggy laughter. Whirl’s eye narrows.

“Is she broken?” He looks to First Aid, “Aid, didja break her?” The medic in question shrinks back a smidge.

“This is how some humans respond to anesthesia, Whirl. They can’t just go into stasis when they need delicate procedures done.” While Whirl considers the validity of the answer with his obviously vast understanding of human medicine and biology, Marie notices the mechs.

“Whirly-bird!” she cheers, prompting an awkward stumble from said ex-Wrecker. 

“Squirt?”

“Whirly-bird, Whirly-bird!” He tilts his head. 

“Ya need something?”

“Whirly-bird, you’re my hero.” He sputters, fans kicking on for a second while you and Aid watch, amused.

“I’m not-” she keeps talking, seemingly unaware of his attempt at the same.

“I felt weird and bad even with everyone else but you’re like me and you’re still cool and strong and-”

“Shh, easy,” you try and get her to slow down her rambles, both for her sake and Whirl’s.

“Kid, I told you already. I’m not exactly someone to look up to.”

“Too bad,” she yawns, “I do.”

Whirl is still a bit put off by her drug-inspired bravado, watching in confusion and mild awe as she drifts back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too sure about anesthesia-Marie, but I wanted to give her a chance to speak a bit more honestly. 
> 
> This also lead to me finding a video of a kid thinking he was a gangster in his post-op drug haze. Not gonna lie, I almost went with that for Marie.


	10. Spotlight: Sumaira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sumaira helps Velocity using a skill she's yet to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I don't have a strong grasp on either Nautica or Velocity as characters, especially the latter.

Sumaira glances from her book upon Velocity's return to her habsuite. Bits of confetti and glitter cling to her frame as she drops down next to the girl on the berth. With a sly smile she sets down her book and signs, slowly for the learner.

“ _Is this what Nautica needed help with?_ ” Velocity huffs and brushes a few pieces of paper from her shoulder.

“ _She and Brainstorm ambushed me. The confetti isn’t too bad, but the glitter…_ ” Cleaning that won’t be fun. At least Magnus will probably chew the pranksters out instead of her over the trail she definitely left. After a moment’s consideration Sumaira gets up and walks closer to her.

“ _Let’s get them back._ ” Velocity blinks once, twice. The twinkle in the girl’s eyes, paired with her general perceptiveness, is almost scary. But this isn’t unexpected, either: Sumaira’s been known to silently encourage past (harmless) pranks.

“I-“ Velocity catches herself, “ _I don’t know if that’s a good idea._ ”

“ _If you don’t do anything, nothing will change._ ” She quirks an eyebrow. “ _And I already have an idea._ ” The smile that follows is almost wicked.

“ _Whatever it is, tell me first?_ ” Velocity isn’t entirely convinced she wants to know as the girl rests a hand on her leg for a beat.

“ _We do nothing._ ” She jerks her head back, dumbfounded.

“ _Nothing?_ ”

“ _But we tell them we did something._ ” Her nod is almost sagely. “ _They spend as long as we want them to looking for what we did. And the longer it goes on, the more scared they get._ ” Slowly, Velocity’s mouth begins to mirror her expression. Not with the same mischief, but she’s on board.

***

It takes more time gathering allies than supplies. Not for a lack of willingness, but because they haven’t been asking the right people. 

“Velocity?” Perceptor rounds the corner in front of her, a few of the medical supplies in her arms spilling over. He retrieves them, passing them back. “There’s been quite a bit of buzz around you and your friend lately.” She freezes.

“Oh, aha, not really! It’s nothing.” Before she can get away he holds out a hand.

“On the contrary. I’d like to assist.” Velocity’s moments from dropping everything.

“Y-you want to-?”

“Their antics are beginning to become excessive. If this puts them in their place a bit, I’d be happy to help where I can.” Her mind is slow in processing this. Perceptor’s no Ultra Magnus, but this was not the conversation she thought she’d be having. “Unless, of course, your plan itself is disruptive.” He follows her along to her destination while she explains Sumaira’s intent. With his addition, everything falls into place. Brainstorm is apparently prone to overworking, between weapons development and his personal projects. It means Perceptor has any number of opportunities to slip the data pad with their note over without him being aware. 

***

“ _Do you think they saw it yet?_ ” For being the one to mastermind this Sumaira is absolutely bouncing with anticipation.

“ _I’m sure we’ll know when they do._ ” Sumaira puffs her cheeks, prompting a chuckle from Lotty. “ _You’re a lot more mischievous than I think any of us give you credit for._ ”

“ _Well,_ ,” her hands still for a moment, “ _I’ve got a lot of older brothers. Not so much now, but when they were little they liked to mess with each other like this. I got a lot of practice with my own payback._ ” The twinkle is still there, but a grey nostalgia settles alongside it in her eyes. “ _Brainstorm and Nautica’s pranks have been a lot like theirs. It gave me ideas._ ”

“ _I’d like to say I’m glad… And I’m certainly not_ not _glad. If this works, it’ll be great. But I sincerely hope they never get a chance to trade secrets. We’ll have to keep them far apart when we get you home._ ” Sumaira chuckles, but her follow up is cut off by a frantic knocking on the door. Velocity waits until she’s replaced her hijab to call out to the visitor.

“It’s open!” They’re greeted by Brainstorm and Nautica, and Sumaira has to turn away and pretend to fix the fabric to hide her giggles. 

“Lotty, I know we’ve had our differences these last-,” Nautica looks to Brainstorm.

“Day and a half.”

“Day and a half, what with the glitter cannon.” Nautica extends her hands in a plea, “But you’ve gotta help.”

“What happened?” She takes a half step to the side to block the inquisitive Brainstorm’s line of sight to Sumaira.

“Someone left this in the lab.” She hands her a data pad- _the_ data pad.

How does it feel to be pranked by the master? 

Velocity pretends to mull it over.

“We thought it was Sanoh,” Brainstorm picks up, “Given the fact she’s… y’know-”

“Sanoh,” Velocity supplies. They had suspected she’d be the prime suspect, meaning they had to do everything in their power to keep her from finding out. There was no way to know for sure, but something told them she wouldn’t be one to keep a secret when pressed.

“Yeah. But she was genuinely awed when we showed her. Even more when we told her the kicker.”

“Which is?”

“Everything’s the same!” Nautica drags her hands down her face. “We triple checked! Everything’s accounted for!”

“Did you talk to Perceptor? He might’ve seen something.”

“He was first outta the lab last night, last in today. Said he had weapons maintenance to do. Ultra Magnus saw him, too, and there’s _no way_ he’s in on this.” Velocity hums.

“I haven’t heard anything. But I’ll be sure to let you two know if I do?” Their shoulders slump.

“Thanks, Lotty.” Moments later they continue on, determination swelling once again. She waits until they’ve turned the corner to close the door.

“ _Tell me everything!_ ” Velocity hurries back to her place and begins recounting the conversation, her fingers dancing with excitement.

***

You should’ve known the fact that they day started peaceful meant it would end a disaster. It isn’t a knock against your friends or anything, just the fate of life on the Lost Light. The only question is what variety of disaster. Some are ultimately harmless, others are… quite the opposite. 

Still, given your lifestyle your standard for judging such things has changed. At first, you’re content to ignore the heavy Cybertronian footsteps rushing past your door. You huff out your nose and prepare to continue your work. And then your comm begins buzzing furiously. The screen lights and dims between the notifications from Brainstorm and you know this is it. This is when it starts.

_Brainstorm: Y/N_  
_Brainstorm: Y/N are you there_  
_Brainstorm: Not to freak you out_  
_Brainstorm: But I think someone tried to prank Nautica and me_

You snort. It certainly doesn’t surprise you after Nautica began to pull him into her well-meant back and forth with Velocity.

_Brainstorm: They did something to the lab and we can’t figure out what._

Your chair falls from under you as you dart out the door to find them.

***

Velocity and Sumaira let it go just until it’s about time for the kids to go to bed. After watching the two scramble about for the day the Camien comms her friend, Sumaira giggling in her palm. It doesn’t take long for the frantic duo to arrive with Nautica catching herself on Brainstorm.

“You found something out?”

“I can do you one better.” Velocity glances to Sumaira, who nods with a frighteningly solid poker face. “I know what happened.”

“What?”

“I can name twenty things in there off the top of my head that could end catastrophically if handled incorrectly.” Nautica nods along with Brainstorm.

“Nothing.”

“...What do you mean, nothing?” Nautica blinks. “Lotty?”

“Nothing happened.” Brainstorm pulls the data pad from his subspace, pointing fervently to the message.

“But the note-”

“Was the prank.” The two stiffen. “Got you.”

 

Brainstorm presses his face into the closest corner. Nautica drops her head. Sumaira had only been loosely keeping up with the discussion by lip reading Nautica, and a bit of Velocity, but she knows it worked flawlessly. She quirks a smile and holds a hand up, which Velocity gleefully high-fives with a careful finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I promise this will not be abandoned. I have a loose plot for the whole thing and fully plan to see it through for these darlings.


	11. Spotlight: An

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An dreams of home. No one's quite sure what to think of it.

Swerve watches An sleep on his chest, the forgotten movie’s credits beginning to scroll up the screen. All the time it took to find something that caught his interest without reminding him too much of home, and he passes out not even thirty minutes in. With a check of his chronometer he chuckles- of course he’s asleep, it’s close to midnight. Or at least, their approximation. They must’ve started the movie later than planned after playing bartender. He has a sinking feeling An had only suggested it to try and keep his favor, whether he realized it or not, but that just drove Swerve even harder to make it fun for the boy. Swerve has been learning to take his attempts to make him happy and spin them into fun for the both of them.

That doesn’t mean the soda and juice concoctions were _good_ , of course. But then, as far as Swerve’s concerned, that’s part of the fun of experimenting. If the giggle fits following particularly strange combinations was anything to go by, An agrees. 

Careful so as not to wake him Swerve cradles him in his hand, depositing him in the blanket nest brought as a makeshift sleeping bag. Once the movie is turned off and the snack remnants shoved aside for Future Swerve to deal with he gets ready for rest himself, casting one more glance at An before powering down.

***

_“Mama?” I hold my hands close and walk to the edge of the park. I look on both sides of the street, but she’s not there. “Papa?” He shouldn’t be here- I came with Mama- but maybe he’ll pass by and help._

_Everything gets dark, like night, but there are no stars. Mama and Papa look big. Bigger than usual. I try and grab Mama’s skirt, but I can’t reach her._

_“Mama? Papa?” My voice is all shaky. Am I scared of them? I shouldn’t be. It’s Mama and Papa. They help me. Mama looks down at me quickly, and I shrink back._

_Why am I scared? They won’t hurt me. They can’t._

_Mama turns her head, but her face isn’t right. Her eyes are too scary. As her foot raises her lips pull into a snarl. I run away._

_Why am I running away? It’s Mama. It’s Mama and Papa._

_「あんたを欲しくなかったわよ。」_

_Why am I crying?_

_I hit a hard wall. A metal wall. Everyone around me is crying. Who are they? I can’t see their faces. I want to go home. There are too many sounds, too much yelling, too many voices._

_I don’t want to be here._

_I want to go home._

_A door behind me unlocks and something weird walks in. Some kids get quiet, others get louder._

_I blink._

_It’s Mama.  
_

***

“-n. An!” His eyes shoot open, clammy hands fighting out of your loose hold. Swerve’s holoform appears behind him and he helps hold him upright through his tears and hiccups. He takes off his glasses and holds the lenses in front of his eyes. Through the time he’s spent with the boy and brainstorming with Rung they came to learn the unique blue tint was enough to remove him mentally from situations long enough to be reasoned with. It’s a shade An only came to notice on the Lost Light, a shade he associates with people like Tailgate and Rung. People like Swerve.

Wordlessly he turns and buries into the fabric of Swerve’s shirt. The sudden embrace leaves him taken aback for a moment before he spins him into a better position to hug back. You meet his eyes and exchange shrugs.

“An?” You lean in, “was it a bad dream?” He nods, but then shakes his head.

“It,” a hiccup, “Mama and Papa were there.” Again, you and Swerve exchange a look. That’s not inherently good. “But they didn’t see me.” Swerve thumbs his shirt to wipe at tears. “I was alone.”

“An…” You rest a hand on the small of his back.

“Kiddo,” Swerve frowns and boosts him on his knee to eye level, “we’re here. You’re not alone.”

“Why didn’t they see me?”

“It was a bad dream,” you jump in when Swerve stalls, “that’s all.” Your heart twists under your lie. An doesn’t have the objectivity to know what his parents did was wrong, but his stories have pretty much convinced everyone. Jedah, bless him, tries to gently coach him given his own experience with his mother, but still.

You slowly get up and send a quick message to Nautica:

_Y/N: Anpan’s a go_

“An, I’m going to go start breakfast. I’ll make omelets like you like?” You get a slight nod, which is victory enough.

***

The kids are busy munching their eggs, enough so that they don’t notice you begin prep on something else. You had also called in Rodimus as a distraction, which helps. They have no idea they should be expecting any pancakes, let alone these bad boys. Egg whites are certainly miracle workers, with how they let you get these fluffy, jiggly monsters. Yours aren’t exactly like the picture you got, but it’s close enough that the kids go ballistic when you approach.

“What are _those_??” Sunan moves to jump from her seat but Rodimus catches her in holoform, slinging a playful arm over her shoulder and keeping her firmly at his side.

“They’re pancakes!” you smile. 

“But they’re huge! _Jiggly_!” The table’s full of chatter as you begin to carefully fill their plates. An’s eyes track you the whole way.

He makes to grab your arm as you finish handing them out with his, just brushing it instead. You stop and crouch for him.

“You remembered?” He mumbles, unsure of where to look. 

“You said your mom never took you there, right? But you wanted to try them? It’s important to you, An. Of course I remembered.” After a moment’s hesitation he nods and picks up his fork. With a smile you move over to Monay, where Rodimus is having a bit too much fun making airplanes with her bites.

***

“An!” Swerve pokes his head into the room where Rodimus is telling a story. Despite his evident enthrallment he perks up as soon as he hears Swerve and walks over.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nope! Got a surprise for you. C’mon!” He waves him forward, closing the door gently once he’s through. An freezes when he sees the box two thirds his height sitting outside.

“What is it?”

“That’s what opening it’s for!” With a gentle hand he nudged him forward. His feet stumble to keep up. Slowly he begins to pull at the flaps, and Swerve knows he saw the gift when he stops and his eyes light up. Once arm-deep in the box he lifts, pulling out a soft white and red rabbit. He brings it into a tight hug slowly as if he's afraid it could vanish at any moment.

“You’re doing a good job, An.” 

Ultra Magnus’s voice comes from it. He squeezes it again.

“We love you so much An!” Your voice. Again.

“You’ll always be my little buddie, kiddo.”

He doesn’t let go after Swerve’s voice. The mech watches, giving him a moment before getting down next to him.

“Everyone recorded a line for this little fella. If you give ‘em a squeeze, you’ll hear a random one.”

“How…?”

“Nautica made it, I just covered materials.

“You're on fire!” 

Rodimus’s voice echoes from his knee, where the rabbit is now sandwiched between himself and An’s tiny arms.

“Thank you, Swerve.” The mech smiles quietly. 

"You're very welcome, kiddo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Japanese reads "[We] didn't want you." I opted to write it out in kana to try and imply a sort of disconnect in An's understanding- obviously he knows Japanese, but I wanted to show a sort of mismatch thing with the dream.
> 
> The pancakes are referencing those at Cafe Gram, which are absolutely crazy. 
> 
> "Anpan" is a play on the drabble from Artoutforblood on Tumblr about Brook getting a bear he names "Brownie"- anpan is a sort of sweet bread filled with red bean paste.


	12. Spotlight: Sanoh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't bribe kids, kids. It never ends well.

You brace yourself against the wall as you bank a turn in hot pursuit of Sanoh. The girl in question waits long enough to watch you lose your footing for a second, cackling as she resumes her escape.

“Sanoh!” You pant. How can someone so tiny have so much stamina? “Stop trying to teach the little ones curses! You almost broke Magnus!” That gets another laugh from her. Funny as it was to watch Magnus process the rather creative string of expletives Monay’s blocks spelled out, it just wasn’t appropriate. And with Magnus trying to explain to an oblivious Monay why that was wrong and Rodimus, thankfully, preoccupied on the bridge with Megatron, it fell to you to intercept the hooligan.

“You’ve got no proof!” she hollers back over her shoulder.

“You sprinted as soon as I looked at you!” That gets a whoop of laughter. This is all a game to her, and while it’s relatively harmless fun she can’t go on thinking it’s okay. You don’t want to ruin the surprise, but it’s the only leverage you have. Mind made up you skid to a halt and take up a strong stance. “I’ll tell Tailgate you don’t want those hoverboard lessons anymore!”

She stops short, waiting a moment before turning to look at you. Her eyes are sharp and inquisitive.

“I don’t have a hoverboard.”

“Guess I’ll have to tell Nautica to scrap that, too.” After a moment’s hesitation she turns to fully face you.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could, but I don’t want to. It’s your choice: Keep teaching Monay bad words, or start hoverboard lessons tomorrow.” You extend a hand in a peace offering. She bites her lip, but accepts nonetheless.

***

Sanoh is practically vibrating in her skin while Ratchet, with his holoform, finishes all but duct taping her safety gear on. She is, however, together enough to be disgruntled by the arrangement.

“Ratch, the pads make me look like a dweeb.”

“You’re surrounded by metal. They’re staying on.”

“You don’t get on Tailgate for not wearing them! Or a helmet!” He stops, watching her pout with befuddled eyes.

“Because Tailgate will not bruise or get a concussion. Also because he’s an adult by your standards and, as such, is allowed to make horrible decisions.” She huffs, well aware that arguing with Ratchet is impossible. Once his holo is dismissed he unfolds from his alt and levels a finger with the minibot. “This absolutely does not mean you get to start showing her tricks, especially ones you can’t complete yourself.”

“No, it’s fine Ratchet! I put together a whole plan with Cyclonus, and Y/N approved it!” That’s enough for Ratchet, who nods and moves toward the habsuite door.

“Well then, don’t have too much fun.” He flashes a slight smile and lets the door close behind him. Sanoh wastes no time, rushing to the mech and bouncing on her feet.

“What’s first? Can you teach me flips? Can _you_ do flips? Can-”

“Woah!” Tailgate throws his hands up. “Wait!” He schools himself , putting on an air of mystique. “Patience, my student.” Slowly he offers his hand toward her, a small object glinting in his palm. “First, the basics.” She snatches it up as soon as it’s in reach, faltering when she realizes it’s just a cleaned u piece of scrap metal.

“This isn’t a hoverboard,” she purses her lips with a huff. 

“Nope!” Normal Tailgate returns. “Y/N said first to make sure you’ve got the balance and stuff before even looking at the actual hoverboard.” Though clearly not thrilled by the delay she continues to bounce in place, enthusiasm mostly undeterred. 

“What first, then?” 

“Stand on the board,” his head follows her as she drops the metal and hops on.

“And?”

“That’s it!” He throws his hands wide, as if he had given some grand declaration. The enthusiasm does little to inspire Sanoh, who looks awkwardly back and forth from her feet to Tailgate.

“I’m not Monay. I know how to stand.” Tailgate gets down on the ground, then his stomach.

“Yup! But we’re starting small.” Mindful of her feet he pinches either end of the board and slowly begins to lift her.

“Woah!” She flails a bit before steadying out, Tailgate’s visor flashing as he continues to raise her. “How the heck do you stay on this thing when you whiz around corners?!” Though managing, Sanoh makes a clear point of moving very little.

“Oh, I don’t! I mean, I don’t fall as much as I used to, but I still fall all the time.” Tailgate carefully shuffles into a better position, mindful of just how much he jostles her. Partially because his motions are so telegraphed she manages to stay fairly steady on her feet.

“This is weird!” She laughs, “Way more different than a skateboard than I thought it’d be!”

“Wait, wait, you know how to skateboard?” He pauses in thought for a moment. “That’s not _not_ similar to this.” Another pause. “Let’s just get to the fun stuff, then!”

From his subspace he produces a small box and sets it down, barely getting it out of his hand before Sanoh begins tearing into the packaging. She’s positively giddy as she lifts the board up, created to mirror the style of Tailgate’s while being adorned with her favorite colors and a little picture of herself.

“Ten can do tiny stuff too?!” Tailgate shuffles closer, glowing.

“You noticed! Isn’t he awesome?! He makes little figures that he paints too!” While nodding furiously she sets it gently on the ground and steps on.

“What’s next?!” The minibot shuffles over to his side of the room and pulls out his own board.

“Well, we practice!”

***

Ratchet swears he hears giggles whiz by, but they’re gone so fast he assumes he's just hearing things.

The second time he figures it's just that his brain thinks he should hear it.

The third he storms out the door, timing perfect for catching the perpetrators with his body. Sanoh smacks into his face first, impact minimal enough for him that he gets his bearings fast enough to catch her. Tailgate follows soon after, bowling him over. He gets a hand around Sanoh to shield her on the way down as they hit the ground with a sharp thud. 

“What in the-“

“Shoot, it’s Ratchet!” Before he can truly respond Sanoh wiggles from his hand and hops down, hoping to bolt. He manages to shift his foot from under Tailgate to block her path.

“Don’t you dare, kid.” There’s plenty of space should she choose to run around the foot, but Ratchet always finds a way. With the initial escape foiled, she shuffles back to face him. Tailgate shakes his head a bit and rolls off Ratchet while the medic stands. “What’s going on here?”

“Hoverboard practice?” Though Tailgate’s posture is hopeful, his voice isn’t. It’s clear he knows exactly what he was supposed to be doing, and that this wasn’t it.

“Hoverboard practice in a _controlled environment._ ”. Ratchet stands. “Honestly, Tailgate. It’s a miracle she didn’t get hurt after running… into…”. His eyes dart about, tracing the floor.

“Ratchet?”

“Where’d she run off to now?”

The telltale giggle down the hall is all they need to hear. Ratchet rolls his eyes as Tailgate gets his board and takes off after her.

“Sanoh! Wait!”

With a half-pleasant-half-exasperated huff, Ratchet follows.


	13. Spotlight: Emilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An incident with scraplets pulls up painful memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning that there are vague references to brief suicidal thoughts, but from a perspective that doesn't understand the consequences and is immediately countered with a whole lot of love and affection.

Drift hadn’t been expecting to be overwhelmed by scraplets in the middle of training. But then, no one ever really does. It has only taken a few surprises to get him off balance, on his knees, on the ground, as the pests swarmed. The longer it goes on the more panic begins to set in as he desperately reaches for his sword. He doesn’t hear the door open or the tiny footsteps over the workings of his mind. So, needless to say, it’s a surprise when he opens an eye to see Emilia swatting away at the pests on his face with a piece of scrap metal and fierce determination. She lets out tiny battle cries with each strike. A couple times she hits his face, too, but it’s worth it for the relief from the stinging bites.

“Alright kid, we gottAugh!” Before he can scoop her up and abscond from the beeping device, a scraplet bites into Brainstorm’s ankle. He kicks on reflex, knocking into it. Dazed as he is Drift still knows Brainstorm and surprises never mix, and so as much as he can he throws his hand out to pull Emilia in and cup her between his hand and face. A blast of cold rushes through the room, he can feel it in his core. It does the trick though, flash freezing the small pests and allowing them to be shaken off. His moment of relief is immediately replaced by dread: If it froze the scraplets solid, then-

“Emilia?!” He can feel her shivering against his hand, which is likely still too cold for her. Though it takes effort he sits up, keeping her cradled close. “I’m getting you to Ratchet but we need to warm you up.” Her nod is barely distinguishable from her trembling. Careful so as to not brush her with his cold chest he cracks open his chest plate, allowing the warmth of his spark to reach her. She instinctively shuffles closer, as a nervous Brainstorm tries to peek and check on her. Drift doesn’t even wait to see how Brainstorm is, the scientist’s been through worse, sprinting down the hall to the medibay.

“Ratchet!!” Drift starts yelling for the medic when he’s only just reached the hall leading to the medibay. The mech in question steps out, ready to scold for the commotion when he spots the scratches and gouges on his plating and the tiny trembling girl in his hands. Despite the flurry of emotions on his face he turns on his heels and hurries over to the slowly growing stash of supplies for the kids- you hadn’t been kidding when you warned the medical team that children have a knack for strange injuries. 

“What happened?”

“There were scraplets, I don’t know, Emilia came in with Brainstorm to help but was in there when they were frozen-“

“Are you- where’s Brainstorm?! I swear,” he walks over with a bundle of blankets and drops them in Drift’s open hand, “bundle her up, warm her slowly- When I see him next-!”

“R-R-Ratchet,” Emilia pokes out from a fold that draped over her head as Drift wraps her up, “I asked to help. Stormy didn’t do anything wrong.” The medic’s fire ebbs, if only slightly.

“He should’ve known better than to let you do something so dangerous. When you’re warmed up and better I want the whole story, understood?” She gives a tiny nod and pulls the edge of a blanket over her mouth. “Now then, I’m comming Y/N to get you a hot drink. Drift, get your frame warm for her. I need a minute to get ready to patch you up anyway.” His response is the rumble of his engine turning over and settling into a rhythm.

***

Ratchet caught you up on what he knew while you made hot chocolate, so when you get to the medibay you’re able to brace yourself. Like he said, it’s nothing too bad. Drift has some welds, but he’s seen worse, and at the very least Emilia is upright in his hand. You had grilled Brainstorm in Ratchet’s steed on the way. The situation was 100% a Brainstorm thing to have happen, but it could’ve certainly gone worse. Apparently he had the scraplets for a research thing, but they got out of the enclosure and flew out the door. They only made it as far as Drift’s hab, the current theory is the heat generated from his work with his sword served as a beacon. Emilia saw Brainstorm running in a panic, found out Drift was in trouble, and wanted to help. The kids had learned about scraplets before, so she knew they didn’t target organics. You and Ratchet exchange the tired nod of kindred spirits trying to maintain some order of sanity before he helps you up next to Drift.

“Alright, where’s my girl?” Drift smiles and lowers his hand to his side, allowing you to see the little Emilia burrito. “Can you finagle your hands out so you can take your cocoa?” You watch her hands fumble their way out of the folds until they pop out, cupped and ready. With a small smile you pass the mug. “Small sips, okay?” She nods

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Scoot? I’d like to talk with you two.” It’s hard for her to move too much but with some assistance from Drift and gravity you get space next to her, allowing him to return his hand to a comfortable position against his chest while you all speak.

“...Am I in trouble?”

“Emilia- no, of course not. Absolutely not. What you did was very brave.”

“You helped me,” Drift chimes in.

“But it’s not your job to be brave. Not like that, at least.”

“Rewind said scraplets don’t hurt humans.” 

“They don’t go after us. But you know how sometimes birds bump into windows when they fly? They see something they want and don’t realize something else is in the way. It’s the same for the scraplets. They won’t go after you like Drift, but they can still run into you. And that would hurt really really bad.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt trying to help me, Emilia,” Drift ruffles her hair with a finger, “we’re supposed to help you.”

“Mm.” Something about her dismissive affirmation makes you uncomfortable, but you know better than to push. Instead you keep up light chit chat while waiting for her to finish her drink. She drifts to sleep after some time, at which point you opt to return to your own habsuite to clean the mug and get some work done. Drift has an absolutely serene smile on his face, something neither you nor Ratchet miss. You share a knowing look before waving and heading off.

***

Drift stays in the medibay, unwilling to disturb Emilia from the place she claimed on his chest. It sounds like Ratchet has fallen into a well-needed recharge atop his desk, but it’s equally likely the medic is faking to feign privacy for the two while on duty. Right now, he wants to learn about the desperation in her eyes when she was fighting the scraplets. There was something more than wanting to protect him there. Plus, Brainstorm was already on his way. Sure, he hadn’t enjoyed being a chew toy, but there weren’t enough of them to do real damage in the time between Emilia’s efforts and Brainstorm’s forced hibernation. It didn’t add up.

Emilia lets out a little snore, a sound he’s learned means she’s waking. As she stirs she realizes she’s not in her bed and begins to panic. Drift moves the hand that he’d rested gently over top her and playfully pokes her cheek.

“You’re okay, it’s just me.” She relaxes.

“...Drift?”

“Yeah?”

“‘M sorry. ‘M really, really sorry.” She rubs at the sleepiness and tears in her eyes.

“Woah, hey,” he carefully brings her toward his face, the spot where she likes to hug at his chin. “What brought this on?” She leans against his cheek.

“I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know.”

“I don’t wanna see anyone get hurt.”

“Neither do I. Neither does anyone else. But it’s okay to let us do the protecting.” As if ashamed she buries her face in the blanket.

“I wanna be able to save you, and Ratch, and Y/N, and everyone.” She hiccups. “I wanna be able to save Ivan.” Drift’s spark stops. Ratchet twitches at his desk.

“Emilia-“

“We’re okay, you guys helped us. So what if he’s still okay?” He can feel her tears on his face but can’t bring himself to so much as move. Sumaira told him, once it became clear Emilia had taken a shine to him. That like the twins she hadn’t come alone, but that her own brother hadn’t made it. And not in a “he left the ship” way. Though her word choice was different, it was made abundantly clear that he was dead. This isn’t the first time Emilia’s tried to convince herself otherwise or became confused over the subject. Plenty of nights she woke from pleasant dreams to face the crushing reality of his absence, or nightmares of their brutal separation. It didn’t make it any easier to address.

“You know, I wasn’t always strong.” Her sobs quiet ever so slightly. “I was lost, alone.” She looks up at him and he can’t meet her eyes, not without jeopardizing his composure. “I only got through such a scary and confusing time because someone helped me. Like your brother helped you.” For a moment he wanted to say his name, but something about it struck him as deeply wrong. As if someone from outside the ordeal discussing him in concrete terms would somehow solidify his death. “His name was Wing. And even when I was a brat he made sure to take care of me, teach me.” She sniffles.

“Where is he now? Why aren’t you with him?”

“When I was done learning I knew there were things I needed to do, so I left. While I was away, mean people found him and his friends.” The balled fists on his chest are all he needs to know she understands the connection, at least as much as someone so young can. For a moment she’s quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. Not with what they’ve been discussing. 

“Do you ever wanna go to him? If he’s gone?” It takes a moment for Drift to push down his unease.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I mean, Mommy and Daddy always said that you go to the sky when you’re gone… so if-“ Drift pulls her close, probably a bit too harshly. Ratchet poorly covers a startled sound with a strange snore.

“Of course I miss him. Of course I want to see him again. But when I do, I want a lifetime of stories to share. Anything else, and he’d be mad at me.” Despite himself he spares a glance at her, watching her stare intently at nothing. “I think… I think that’s what anyone would think. What anyone would want for those important to them. Wouldn’t you want that for him?”

“...yeah. Yeah, I would.” Carefully he rubs small circles on her back.

“Exactly. So when it gets lonely, think about the stories you haven’t found for him yet. Even if they’re silly, like Minimus’s face when he finally found out what ‘Luigi’ meant.” 

“Okay.” She rests the side of her head against his chest. “...Drift?”

“Mm?”

“...You won’t go away too, right?” She nuzzles into his neck. “I don’t want anyone else to."

“Never.” He cups a hand over her back, watching over her as she drifts back to sleep.


	14. Spotlight: Sunan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication goes two ways, something both Cyclonus and Sunan struggle with.

Sunan and Cyclonus’ strange camaraderie mostly came from their responsibilities to Sanoh and Tailgate respectively. It’s lead to many times like this, the two using their understanding of the others to try and sus out where, exactly, they’d disappeared to. Normally there wasn’t any particular rush, someone always stumbled across the two- it’s not as if they’re quiet. Neither feels particularly nervous, Sunan sitting in Cyclonus’ cupped palm, back barely brushing against his chest. 

And then the ship rocks, and the lights black out.

Without thinking Sunan grasps the closest finger before quickly releasing and withdrawing. Cyclonus spares a glance down before curling his hand toward his chest, the best attempt at comfort he can think to give. His comm beeps, and he makes sure to put it on speaker almost immediately after answering.

::Rodimus here, we’ve got a… what was it, Perceptor?:: A beat of silence. ::Space science, got it. Once we clear this sector systems should come back online. Until then hang tight, everything’s under control.:: Cyclonus pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Tailgate forgot his comm now of all times,” he huffs. He can feel Sunan trembling ever so slightly but tries to keep his eyes up. Other mechs find his appearance overwhelming, surely the children do as well. And though it certainly doesn’t so much as faze him he can appreciate the ominous nature of the immediate dark only being illuminated by two spots of red.

“We need to find them.” The trembling has hardly slowed, if at all, and it can be heard in his voice, too. Of course he’d probably prefer to be with his sister. Away from him.

“You’re right.” He begins walking again, noting how the boy slowly settles down. Still nervous, but less of fear and more anxiety for Sanoh. The darkness isn’t much of a hinderance with the various ways a Cybertronian can perceive their surroundings, though, so he has no qualms with resuming the search. “Though it wouldn’t be a problem to leave you with the others first.”

“I…” Cyclonus slows his steps, hoping the softer clangs of feet on metal encourage him to speak. Instead he fidgets in his palm.

“It is alright to speak your mind.” Sunan chews his lip nervously.

“...I feel safe with you.” He comes to a stop. “But I know you only hang out with us because of Tailgate.” 

“Who said that?” He winces internally at how aggressively the question could be construed. If Sunan notices it it doesn’t show in his voice.

“No one, promise. It’s just you always look uncomfortable, you don’t really talk... Y/N said some Cybertronians don’t like humans. Or other kinds of people like us. That, or they’re scared to hurt us since we’re so small.”

“And you assumed I was one such person?”

“Mhm.” The assumption is reasonable, and the latter suggestion not so far from the truth.

“Little one… Sunan, I have experienced many things throughout my life, as have the others. It has been a very long time since any were unrelated to war, to combat, to loss.” He hesitates before continuing. “Despite what previous allegiances suggest, I don’t have strong feelings either way in regards to organics. Like my own kind, one’s character is more important. Y/N has impressed me. You all have impressed me.”

Cyclonus resumes their exploration silently, chastising himself for having said as much as he had. Had the old him, the one wandering Cybertron for some semblance of home, seen him now, he would certainly scoff in his face. There had been no place for such sentimentality.

But this isn’t a war anymore, and living as if it were would only make him miserable. Tailgate had taught him that with his constant insistence of rooming together. Being friends. Being lovers. He’d need to thank him, he supposes.

After reprimanding him for forgetting his comm and getting lost with a child _again_.

The two resume wandering the halls in a companionable silence. Though there’s no chatter of others, it isn’t unexpected. Even with their reasonably sized crew the Lost Light is a big ship. People tend to stick to familiar places where there’s actual activity, leaving plenty to be explored. Not that the ship is some strange wilderness- Ultra Magnus at the very least must know every nook and cranny. But to someone like Tailgate, anything off the beaten path is an adventure. 

“Cyclonus, I think I heard something.” Sunan glances up at the mech. With a moment’s pause from his musings he, too, picks up on the voices. “Can we hurry?” He fidgets. “I’m worried for Sanoh.” Cyclonus has no qualms picking up the pace, but the request is strange.

“She is in no danger.” Silently he tacks on a “probably.” One never really knows here.

“Don’t tell her I told you this, but she’s never been good with the dark. Even before.”

“...Now that you mention it, Tailgate can also become rather claustrophobic in such circumstances.” Cyclonus’ walk is a bit brisker when he resumes.

***

After a few wrong turns they finally find the two gathered in a corner. Cyclonus silently lowers Sunan to the ground, following him to the others.

“C-Cyclonus! W-what’s going on?!” Tailgate’s visor flashes wildly while Sanoh pops her head out from behind the mini’s hand, tears streaked down her cheeks. When she spots her brother in the trail of emergency lights and Tailgate’s blinding visor she begins to wipe furiously at them, despite the fact he definitely saw them. “T-The-” Before he can finish the lights blink back on. Cyclonus silently answers his comm while maintaining eye contact.

::Rodimus here, we’re through the sector and back to normal operations. All good, let’s get back to it!:: Slowly, he hangs up, watching Tailgate fidget with his hands.

“Had you not forgotten your comm, you would have known there was no need for panic.” Tailgate dips his head and shuffles his feet.

Meanwhile, from the corner of his eye, he watches Sunan. The boy doesn’t miss a beat while going along with his sister’s attempts at bravado, looking him over with shaking hands and assuring him that “everything’s totally fine.” He simply lets her fret, chiming in to answer her questions. Silently, Cyclonus rests a hand on Tailgate’s head. Tailgate looks up at him, and after receiving a blink shuffles to his side.

***

The next day Cyclonus enters the children’s playroom sans Tailgate, getting a few looks from some of the other bots. He silently settles into a kneel beside Sunan, who looks up for a second, smiles, and returns to his drawing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever between life and like. Picking a plot. Cyclonus also kinda stole the spotlight (heh) at times because I can't control my love for this purble people eater.


	15. Spotlight: Izzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, you all should've expected someone would've been directly impacted by the invasion. What matters know is how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izzy's the kiddo I came up with for this AU so I thought this would be the easiest but nope!
> 
> Also my AHM memory is super rusty so I did what I could with TFWiki.

You pace outside Rung’s office, rubbing at the back of your neck. Everyone thought they’d been in the clear of at least this, given how long it’s been. But nope, if Izzy’s mild nightmare is any indication, you're not. It kinda makes sense, you remember reports saying around one billion people died, but still. At the very least it wasn’t a crazy one- no, it was one of those weird nonsensical nightmares everyone seems to get from time to time. She had woken with a start, but was already forgetting it. The door opens, and Rung beckons you come inside. Without missing a beat you step into his hand so he can deposit you on his desk.

“You said in your message you’re concerned for Izzy?” He sits, lacing his fingers together. “What happened?”

“She had a nightmare last night. Normal one, no big deal, the weird kind. She actually only told me about it because she was starting to realize how weird and kinda silly it was. But the surrounding context- I don’t think she even fully knows that’s what it was, but I think she lost family in the invasion.” Rung blinks.

“Izzy would have been, what, roughly two, three years old? It’s my understanding that human memories from that time frame rarely persist.”

“I think that’s why it’s been okay. I know she lives with her older cousin because she was staying with him when her parents got in a bad accident on a trip to New York when she was little.”

“I remember reading that the destruction there was some of the worst.”

“Yeah. I think she’s kinda figured that that’s what happened- she’s curious, and they started teaching kids about all of that stuff in elementary schools. Sterilized versions, but still.”

“Do you know of anyone on the ship that played a particularly… large role?”

“Autobot wise, I know some Wreckers were involved. Perceptor and Drift, definitely, and I know Blaster was with that group, Wrecker or not. Sunstreaker was too, but…”

“Indeed. Though either he’s been doing a very good job avoiding making appointments, or he really did remain back on Cybertron.” You smile at the attempt to lighten the mood.

“Nah, I think you’re good there. Bob would’ve dragged him in by now, if for no other reason than to try and get some treats from you.” He chuckles. “Decepticon wise, well. The big metal elephant in the room.” You sigh. “Thankfully he’s skittish around all of us, so I don’t think anyone’s run into him yet, but…”

“Big as this ship is, eventually it is bound to happen.”

“Yeah. And without knowing… yeah.” He stands, offering his hand. “We were already planning a little picnic of sorts by one of the view ports. I’ll see if I can make sure things are going okay.” You flash a half-hearted smile as you climb on.

***

Izzy does her best to help Rung lay out the tarp they’ve procured as a blanket, though there are multiple times where, while working to smooth it out, she gets caught underneath the material. It doesn’t take too long, though, and soon enough they’re sitting down in front of the view port, Izzy with a sandwich and Rung a cube of energon. For a while it’s enough to watch the stars twinkle by as they chat. But what you said earlier won’t get out of Rung’s head. How much does she understand of what happened to her family? What support has she had to cope with it? 

How does she really, truly feel about Cybertronians?

It wouldn’t be entirely unreasonable for her to be deceiving herself into not being scared, but that doesn’t address the root of the problem. But getting there requires risking this comfort, and that’s assuming she even views it as such. Rung was the one to offer having these little picnics first, after all. She could be doing this in hopes of keeping him happy. He could wait until her next regular appointment, but those are infrequent with most of the kids now that they’ve had time to adjust. If this really is a problem he doesn’t want to wait that long. 

Rung removes his glasses and begins wiping the lenses.

“Izzy?” She turns away from the window and tilts her head.

“Are you okay? You only do that with your glasses when you’re nervous.” He smiles slightly at her keen observation.

“I… have a question for you. But it’s not a very pleasant one.” He takes a deep breath, replacing his glasses before continuing. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” She walks closer and sits, legs crossed.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” There’s a twinkle of innocence in her eyes that grips Rung’s spark. A mix of regained hope and absolute trust. 

“Alright. Well, then, I’ll just ask outright. What happened to your parents, Izzy?”

“My parents? My cousin Marcos told me they died in an accident. I was so little, I don’t really remember it too much.”

“Do you know what kind of accident? Or where they had gone?” He’s careful to keep his voice neutral.

“Um, I think they were in New York City. It’s this, like, huuuuge,” she holds her arms out wide, “city on an island. It was a mess then. I think it was something about a subway accident. I stayed with Marcos, and then we had a sleepover with a bunch of people.” A shelter, probably. This cousin was probably frantic trying to manage a toddler through an alien invasion, doing anything possible to distract her from the terror he felt. “Everyone back home says Transformers caused all those accidents, but they mean Cybertronians, don’t they?” Rung folds his hands in his lap.

“They do.”

“I read a little bit about what happened in school, how Cybertronians got into fights on Earth and people got stuck in them. But all I remember for myself is a really big grey person with scary red eyes. Not like Minimus’s. I remember it because it felt like he was looking through the TV.” And the shoe drops. She remembers Megatron- that has to be who she means. She gets to her feet and pulls Rung from his thoughts with a tiny hand on his shin. “But I’m not scared of you, or Stormy or Percy or Rodimus or anyone on this ship.” Rung sets his hand down, allowing her to climb on.

“Truly?”

“Mhm. Humans can be jerks, but that doesn’t mean all of them are. Like, there’s,” she starts counting along on her fingers, “Marcos, and the lady at the planetarium, and Y/N, and the nice librarian. And others too. Being scared of a bully wouldn’t make me scared of them.” Rung smiles, helping her to his shoulder where she falls into her favorite spot near his neck.

“I’m glad to hear that, truly. I must admit, Y/N and I were afraid that you may be afraid of all of us but not want to say it.” She snuggles just a bit closer.

“I mean, I was really scared when we first came here. But you guys have taught me so much. I like getting to be with everyone, and I get to see stuff a lot of people dream of. I’m really happy I got to meet you, and everyone else.” He brushes her side with the tip of his index finger, prompting a fit of giggles.

“I’m glad I was able to meet all of you, too.” She pulls her feet up and settles herself. It amazes him, both her depth of understanding and the sheer amount of love she’s been able to hold onto. Honestly, it shouldn’t have surprised him. If anything, he regrets having doubted her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two kids left and then we get to plot things!


End file.
